


The Revelation of Theodore Nott

by weaverofdreams45



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaverofdreams45/pseuds/weaverofdreams45
Summary: Fresh off the defeat of the Dark Lord and the death of his father, Theo Nott is back for his eighth year at Hogwarts.  Unafraid and unrestrained by his father's expectations, he is ready to show the world who he truly is.  Tired of being underestimated, he's prepared to show Hogwarts (and one head girl specifically) what a mistake it was ever underestimating him.





	1. Tired

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! I fell in love with Theo Nott through fanfiction, so I'm thrilled to be offering my version of Theo into the universe. I hope that you love my boy as much as I do. Thank you for reading my fic, it means the world to me!
> 
> Written for the Theo Nott fic fest for Granger Enchanted Survivors!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore Nott is tired of being unseen, unheard, and underestimated. When he has a chance encounter with the three young saviors of the wizarding world, he is determined to show the entire world (and one muggleborn witch in particular) just who exactly Theo Nott is.

__

_September 1, 1999_

The cobblestones under my feet resounded as the wooden heels of my dragonhide shoes hit each stone.  Approaching the platform that used to be my ride to freedom, I felt a heavy knot tie itself in my stomach.  The last time I had been at Hogwarts had been the worst year of my life.  Being the child of a death eater had earned me some reprieve, and I had escaped the worst tortures, but my classmates pained screams had not left me for a moment since.

My father’s funeral had been poorly attended, as the bastard deserved.  Only the house elves attended the pitiful service; I couldn’t even bring myself to say anything at the graveyard.  What do you say to a man who beat you until you were good enough?  A man who would’ve offered you to the service of a demented dark wizard without even a second thought.  I cried as they lowered him into the ground, not out of sadness, but out of relief.  I had spent my entire life trying to be the son my father wanted, and when that still wasn’t good enough, I calculated just how much of a disappointment I could be without him killing me.

I thanked Merlin every day that after Draco’s disappointing performance in killing Dumbledore that the Dark Lord refused to accept wizards until majority.  May 2.  That was the day that my father had died, and Voldemort had fallen.  May 7, my 17th birthday.  I had only five days left before my service to the Dark Lord would’ve begun but thanks to Potter, Weasley and Granger I never had my arm marked…I never had to serve a man I despised.

Some Ravenclaw girl I didn’t recognize bumped into me, and I heard her mumble her apologies, never once looking at me.  “I didn’t see you there.”  She’d said, and I sneered.  No one ever saw me.  Not once in my entire life had anyone ever seen me.  No wait…that’s a lie.  My mother saw me.  I never could figure out how a woman of such beauty and kindness had ended up married to my horrid father.  Her death had been the saddest moment of my life, and the moments before it was the last time I knew love of any kind.

The platform suddenly fell into a hush of whispers and I knew that there were two options of who had just come through the barrier.  The first option (and the more preferable of the two) was that Draco Malfoy had arrived, the second option (and the more likely since Draco was planning on apparating to Hogsmeade and walking in) was that Harry Potter was truly coming back for his last year at Hogwarts.  Now I just had to determine which one it was.  My question was answered a few seconds later when a round of applause like rolling thunder rippled through the station.

Turning towards what seemed to be the center of the commotion, my eyes took in the sight before me.  Being taller than most of the other students, I was still able to see the trio through the throng of students and parents – it also helped that there were notably less people than usual, a sad testament to the destruction and loss of the war.  Standing just outside the entrance were the heroes of Hogwarts. 

Potter seemed to have finally packed on some weight, looking less emaciated and exhausted than he had during the final battle.  I’d always noticed how thin he was, children of abuse tended to see one another in ways other could not.  He had his arm draped around the Weasley girl, which was not a surprise at all.  Anyone who was within fifty feet of those two could tell they were destined for one another, it honestly made me sick.  The Weasel looked like he had fully recovered his strength from the year before as well, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was much more muscular than I remembered him being.   That wasn’t what interested me the most though.  No, what interested me the most was Hermione Granger.

She had always been cute, at least I had always thought so.  I still remembered that first day on the train when she had asked me if I’d seen Longbottom’s toad.  Draco had been quick to make fun of her curly hair, and then later when she’d been sorted into Gryffindor and they found out she was muggleborn…it was safe to say that any and all romantic interest towards her would be punished, severely.

Looking at the woman standing to the right of Potter now though, it took all of my Slytherin training to not drop my jaw to the floor.  She had cut her long curls off just around her chin, giving her a flattering bob.  Her honey eyes were highlighted by the slight rosiness of her cheeks, and he figure was being tightly hugged by muggle denims.  The peasant-style blouse she wore sucked in at her waist before pooling out, the light blue complimenting her skin beautifully.  Only the princess of Gryffindor could fight a war and come out looking better than before.  Even her scars were beautiful, glinting in the light as she walked.

Was she my punishment for all the wrong I’ve done?  It was the only thing that made sense.  She was not beautiful in the traditional sense, not in the way that Daphne Greengrass or Lavender Brown had been.  It was everything non-traditional about her that made her irresistible.  She never seemed bogged down by what she was supposed to be; never giving in to the plight of many teenage witches wondering how to do their hair or what makeup to wear.  It was intoxicating, the confidence with which she snubbed her nose at what and who she was supposed to be.

My focus on her features was broken as the Weasel said something to make her laugh.  I was too far away to hear what it sounded like, but I liked to imagine that it was soft and sweet.  When she was done laughing, the Weaselette whispered something in her ear, and her huge brown eyes turned suddenly and locked onto mine.  “Shit.”  I muttered under my breath, breaking away my eyes from hers.  I’d just been caught staring by Hermione Granger.  Pushing whatever misguided feelings I was having for the girl aside, I gathered my belongings and approached the train.  I could only avoid facing my consequences for so long, and time was running out.

No one at Hogwarts knew that I didn’t want any part of Voldemort’s plan.  No one at Hogwarts knew that I was abused by the very man they thought I worshipped.  Not even Blaise, my closest friend, knew about the beatings.  In a world where I was never seen, my mask of indifference and boredom morphed into a death eater’s mask to some.  There would be people there who would blame me for the sins of my father, for the lives he had taken, and I’m not even sure I wouldn’t deserve it.  All my life I’ve been a coward.  Too afraid to stand up for myself…too afraid to stand up to my father…too afraid to run away and too afraid to stay.  There would be people who would want me dead, and if I’m being honest with myself, I want me dead too.

The scars the entire student body had suffered in the time of the Carrows made me sick.  The younger kids were tortured, harassed, made to feel afraid in the very place they should’ve felt the safest.  Older students…well we were no better off.  The first time I was made to torture a student was September 3rd.  Amycus Carrow had caught a Gryffindor with one of the contraband Weasley contraptions and I was the unlucky bastard who had been walking by.  It seems the Carrows didn’t understand the nature of the Cruciatus however, because when you cast one, you have to mean it.  Looking down at that terrified second year with his wide blue eyes staring at me, pleading for his life, I had never meant anything less.  I mouthed the words and moved my hands the way I should’ve, but I didn’t mean it.

Of course, the students of Hogwarts wouldn’t know that.  I was Theo Nott, son of a death eater, Slytherin scum.  Nothing else mattered; not that I cried myself to sleep for the first two months of school, not that my father beat me when he heard I couldn’t cast the Cruciatus.  To all of these people, I was what they decided I’d be.   Maybe…no…I shook my head to cast out the thought the moment it came into my head.  Moving quickly, I boarded the train, finding an empty car where I could be alone with my thoughts.  Draco wasn’t going to be on the train, so I ran through who I might see and how I might get out of seeing them.

Blaise would no doubt come find me eventually, but his role as Head Boy would keep him busy for a while.  Crabbe…well he was dead.  Goyle had helped his father try to flee the country, so he was doing a nice little stint in Azkaban.  Pansy, well I wouldn’t be surprised if I never saw her face in London again (trying to offer the savior of the Wizarding World to the Dark Lord tends to make someone unwelcome).  Daphne and Astoria were hidden away at Beauxbatons the moment the Dark Lord took control of the ministry.  For all intents and purposes, I was alone.

Casting a disillusionment charm so no one would see me, I suddenly felt the weight of my exhaustion.  I’d barely slept since the end of the war, waiting for the nightmares to fade.  Every night I would dream that my father was alive, and what a disappointment I would be.  Not only did I not fight, I ran away…I was a coward.  Before I realized what was happening, I felt the hot sting of tears run down my face.  I shouldn’t have come back.  I should have fought.  I should’ve…

My self-pity session was cut short when a familiar voice called out, “Found an empty one.”  Wiping my face quickly, I made sure not to make a sound.  In filed Potter, Weaselette, Weasel and Granger.  My breath caught when, of course thanks to my blasted awful luck, the muggleborn witch sat in the seat closest to me.  Only moments later, once everyone had stowed their trunks, Neville Longbottom and Loony Lovegood joined them.  This was already not good, and it was getting worse every second.

Loony, wearing her trademark crazy glasses, moved to sit next to Hermione, but she also did something I didn’t expect.  She looked straight into my eyes and excused herself.  I was 100% sure I was still under a disillusionment spell, but cast worried glances around the cabin to see everyone regarding Luna with a look of amused dismissiveness and she leaned in close and whispered so only I could hear it, “Don’t worry, they can’t see you.”  She then let out a forced cough, reminding me she had asked me to move.  I hurriedly scooted over and watched with awe as the blonde turned back to her friends.  Why hadn’t she given me away?  If I hadn’t been hiding from the very people she had come in with, I would’ve dropped the spell right then and asked her. 

“What was with that prat staring at you?”  The Weaselette asked, moving her head from its place on Potter’s shoulder and leaning across to speak to the girl. 

“I’m not sure.”  Granger responded, and I almost choked on air as I noticed a small blush forming around the base of her cheeks.

“Probably wishing Voldemort had finished the job and done her in.  All Slytherins are such blood purist scum.  Who even was he?  He looked like he was around our age, but I don’t remember him.  Probably some nobody, looked familiar though.”  If I hadn’t already been used to people saying that about me, that might’ve stung, but I’d cultivated the last five years of my life into being forgettable…being nothing.  I invited people to underestimate me, but now that my father was dead and the madman had been dealt with…I didn’t want to be forgettable anymore.  I wanted to be seen.

“Anyway, lets not talk about some psycho Slytherin…are you excited to be Head Girl Hermione?  I mean it’s not like there’s any contest in our year.  You’re loads smarter than everyone else.  Don’tcha think?”  The Weasel seemed to lean in closer to Granger, and I couldn’t help but notice that she was smiling, but her eyes looked a little panicked.  _Oh this is interesting_ , I thought.  _The Weasel’s got a crush, but it doesn’t seem that the Gryffindor Princess reciprocates._   This was new information to him, as the Daily Prophet had been running a continuous speculation column on the relationship of the Golden trio’s Brainiac and…well whatever purpose the Weasel served.

“Regardless, I need to work hard.  Who knows, maybe this will be the year that Malfoy finally bests me.  After all, he doesn’t have his father or Voldemort holding him back anymore.”  The ease with which she both said the Dark Lord’s name and talked about Draco caused me to stare at her with my mouth agape.  My slight gasp was luckily drowned out by the laughter that followed her statement, and I returned to listening intently to their conversation.

“You never know.  Perhaps someone will surprise you.  Theo Nott was always exceptionally bright.”  Loony stated, looking once again directly at me.  She winked with a mischievous and knowing look in her eye, and I was once again left to wonder what game she was playing at.

“Nott?”  The Weasel responded, finally seeming to remember where he knew him from.  “You mean that bastard who Sluggy wouldn’t let join his club sixth year because his father was a death eater?”  His voice dripped in disgust, and Harry seemed to reel at the mention of their sixth year.  It hadn’t been a good year for anyone in my house, and it seemed to me that that statement was true unanimously through Hogwarts.

“Ronald.”  Granger warned, placing a small hand on his arm.  Of course she would stand up for me; the precious Gryffindor princess, so kind and forgiving.  “Nott is…I’m not concerned about him suddenly replacing me as number one.  He’s not the most confident wizard is he.  I don’t even really remember him except for a handful of encounters.  He’s just another Slytherin.  I highly doubt he has the power or brains to challenge me.”  There was something in her eyes that filled me with bitter disappointment.  Not that I expected sympathy or forgiveness from her, Merlin knew I didn’t deserve it.  What I absolutely didn’t expect though, was the anger that followed it.  I was so tired of these self-righteous Gryffindors.  Sure, they were heroes, but he wasn’t a villain.  He was more than a Slytherin…he was more than his father’s son. 

As soon as that thought entered my head, I knew that I had to change things.  If they didn’t want to see who I was, I would make them see.  I would show them just how strong a wizard I could be.  _Well well, miss Granger_ , he thought, scowling at the collection of heroes around him, _I never took you for the type to make the same mistake as everyone else…Underestimating me comes with a price._

For the past five years, I had been holding myself back…fading into the shadows.  It was time for everyone to see who I really am.  I am powerful…I am smart…I am Theodore Nott.


	2. Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo is introduced to a new Slytherin, and charged with taking the boy under his wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really enjoying writing this story, so I can only hope you're enjoying reading it just as much.

If there is one thing about Hogwarts that I have come to understand, it is that I am not welcome there.  After my fourth spontaneous loss of balance, I had figured out that it wasn’t quite that I was getting clumsier, but rather that the other students were getting ballsier.

The sorting ceremony had been small, the smallest the school had been since the 1870s.  It wasn’t surprising…after the last year.  Of the seventeen first years they welcomed this year, three were Gryffindor, six were Ravenclaw, six were Hufflepuff, and only two were Slytherin.  The two fresh snakes looked absolutely terrified, and it wasn’t hard to understand why.  Slytherin had always been the villain in school, if you were a Slytherin, you were evil and that was it.  Things had only gotten increasingly worse in the last year.  It didn’t matter to anyone that we Slytherins were tortured and punished just like all the others.

Then again, it wasn’t surprising that we were the villains.  I certainly had done nothing in my whole life that could even be misinterpreted as good.  Draco, as much as he had changed in the war, was certainly not a pleasant bloke to hang round.  It didn’t help that he and his block-headed minions went so against Potter and his precious friends.  Calling Granger a mudblood our second year was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen.

Blaise broke me out of my latest bout of self-pity with a shove to my shoulder.  My best friend, no matter how foul my mood, Blaise always knew how to break me out of it.  “I have a very special mission just for you mate.”  He started; his light Italian accent evident in the way he enunciated his words.  It always amazed me that even after all this time he still held onto his original accent.

“Why do I have a sneaking suspicion I won’t be thrilled about this special mission?”  I asked, guarding myself against Blaise’s friendly smile.  A snake through and through, I knew that there was nothing more dangerous than a smile from a Slytherin.

“You always were smart.”  He praised, and I raised my eyebrow at him.  Clearly whatever he wanted me to do would be unpleasant.

“Just get to the point Blaise.  I have a pounding headache and I’ll probably be hexed at least twice more before the night ends, so my patience is rather thin.”

“I want you to mentor the male firsty.  His name is Alexander and he’s a war orphan.”  My breath hitched as I processed what his words.  In all my years as an upperclassman, I had never once been asked to mentor a first year.  It was a common program in Slytherin, and he remembered his own mentor.

_“If you are half the wizard your father is, you will be an excellent addition to our house.”  The taller boy spoke, running a hand over his slicked back sandy blond hair.  Turning to face me, his eyes looked dangerous, like I had no idea just what he was capable of.  “Remember young Theodore, being a pureblood makes you better, but being a Slytherin makes you the best.  Never give me any reason to believe you’ve brought shame on our house.  You’d do well to remember just who you are…who you are expected to be.”_

Withholding the shiver that ached to run down my spine took all my concentration.  Placing my stony expression carefully back, I scowled at Blaise.  “I don’t have time to babysit a first year.  Make Malfoy do it.”  My voice was harsher than I had intended, but I really didn’t want to be responsible for anyone besides myself.  My eyes caught the flash of light off Blaise’s head boy badge, and he caught my eye, silently expressing that it was not optional.

“Xander.”  Blaise called, and I watched as an impossibly small boy with olive-toned skin and dark curly hair shuffled forward.  “This is Theo.  He’ll be your mentor this year.  Make sure you listen to him well.”  Before I could object, Blaise was gone, leaving the boy alone in front of me.  Cursing under my breath, I moved aside to allow the young boy to sit down.   He was a rather sorry sight; clearly malnourished and there was something hollow about his brown eyes, like there was nothing living behind them.  His knees wobbled as he approached the table, and I felt something stir in my chest at the sight of him.  It hadn’t been so long ago that he had been in the place of this terrified boy.

“Well if I’m going to be stuck babysitting you, we might as well become properly introduced.”  Holding out my hand to the young boy, I pulled my lips into my finest smirk.  “I’m Theodore Nott, but if you ever call me Theodore I will hex your tongue out of your skull.”  The words dripped with disdain as I spoke them, and for a moment I thought the young boy would burst into tears.  “Alexander Rowle.”  He spoke quietly.  “I…if you could call me Xander please…sir”  I had to strain to hear the last few words, and it clicked for me that he wasn’t just a war orphan; his father had been a death eater.  Silently cursing Blaise, I now understood why he wanted me to have this boy.

“Well first lesson Xander is stop slouching.  Sit up straight and articulate.  Wouldn’t want anyone mistaking you for a Puff.”  The boy let out a week smile, nervously playing with a stray curl from his hair.  “Now how much do you know about Hogwarts outside of whatever your father told you?”

“Urm…Well not much sir.”

“Alright.  I’ll give you a basic run-down on the way to the dungeons after the meal – that’s where our common room is – don’t forget that.  Are there any questions you have for me now?”  The boy bit his lip, and I tried my best not to roll my eyes.  If he was this timid, perhaps he really should have been sorted into Hufflepuff.  “Just ask it.  Whatever it it.”

“Is that…is that really Harry Potter?”  The brown eyes that met mine were so small, so empty, I choked back my sarcastic comment and chose to answer him honestly.

“Yes.  That’s really him.  The red-head next to him is Ron Weasley and the witch is Hermione Granger.”  Xander nodded his head, and he didn’t have to ask me to continue.  I was absolutely positive that whatever his father had told him about the world was biased at best and horribly prejudiced at worst.

“Potter is a Gryffindor through and through.  He’s dating the Weasel’s sister (she’s the one sitting on his other side).  Stupidly reckless and self-less.  Would say he has a hero complex but that’s not entirely any fault of his own.  Weasel is somehow worse than Potter.  He’s loud, boorish, and only has half a brain because of the help of Potter’s pet muggle-born.”  My voice caught as I called Granger by the unflattering nickname that Slytherin had used.  I couldn’t bring myself to call her a mudblood though.  There was no one I had to perform for anymore…no one who would beat me for forgetting that muggleborns are unworthy of magic.  I must have been scowling pretty hard because Xander’s quiet voice trembled a bit as he asked me if I hated Granger.

“Its not…I don’t hate her.  I was raised to.  I was supposed to.”  Sensing the discomfort in my voice, the firsty thankfully chose to leave it alone.  I cleared my throat before continuing.  “She’s the brightest witch in this school.  Head girl despite having been on the run with the rest of the Golden Trio for all of last year.  Quite brilliant, and kind in a way that’s almost nauseating.  I plan on outshining her in academics this year.”  I realized I was spending a little too much time describing her, so I cleared my throat and moved on.  Just as lucky I did because her soft honey eyes seemed to snap up and meet mine the second I moved them away.

“Weaselette (that’s Potter’s girlfriend, you’ll get used to the nicknames eventually), is a fierce witch and I would highly recommend not getting on her bad side.”  My eyes flickered towards the ginger witch who sat with her arm around Potter.  I shivered remembering when she had turned her wand on Draco.  He had sneezed out bats for a week.  “Next to her is Neville Longbottom.  He may not seem like much, but he ran the resistance last year.  He also single-handedly killed the Dark Lord’s pet snake.”

Xander listened attentively as I went through the rest of the students in the other houses.  “Now pay close attention to this.  Slytherin has a very unique power dynamic, and as it stands you and the other first year are on the very bottom.”   Clearing my throat, I began with the second years who had returned and worked my way up to those who were in my year.

“Naturally you’ve met Blaise.  He’s originally from Italy, so his family never really mixed in with the blood purist population here in Britain.  As much as he’s a pompous arse and a git, he’s also my best mate.  A good man to have in a rough spot.  Keep on his good side.  He’s also Head Boy, which you should use to your advantage should the need arise.  I would say he, Draco and I are probably the top tier in the hierarchy right now.”

Moving my eyes down the line, I only had one more person to introduce, and I wanted to be very careful how I did it.  Draco Malfoy sat by himself at the end of the table.  His silver eyes were glassy and absent, his blonde hair lying limply in front of them.  He looked slightly better than he had when I’d last seen him at his trial, but it would have been hard for him to look worse.  “That is Draco Malfoy.”  Xander nodded at me, and I could tell from his eyes that he knew exactly who Malfoy was.  I winced at the familiarity, reminded of myself when I was eleven.  The Malfoys were a very important family to the dark arts.  The Rowles may not have been very high ranking, but it was unlikely that he would have not met the Malfoys at some point.

“Now I’ve arrived at the last wizard, and I find myself ill informed.  Tell me about yourself.”  It was an order more than an invitation, which the boy seemed to understand.  He told me about how his father had been killed at the Battle of Hogwarts, and his mother had died giving birth to him.  His story was too similar to mine, and I begrudgingly realized that I had formed a connection with the timid boy.  I would protect him from this world the way no one had protected me.

Dinner was finishing up by the time he had finished telling me his story, and I just gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement.  Just because I found his presence less awful than I had been expecting did not mean that I would let him know that.

I regaled him with my infinite wisdom as we made our way to the dungeons from the Great Hall.  The fifth-year prefects seemed to be relieved from their duties due to the small incoming class.  Millicent Bulstrode seemed to have been chosen to show around the other first-year, which I had to hold back my sneer at.  Milli was not an incredibly pleasant person to be around, even by snake standards.  When we arrived at the dungeons, I paused and let the crowd pull ahead of us. What I wanted to say next was not for the eavesdropping ears of my classmates.  Draco caught my eye for a moment, but I just shook my head at him.  He seemed to understand my intention and continued forward into the common room.

Xander stayed obediently at my heel while we waited for the crowd to pass, and I grabbed his shoulder, guiding him to the secret alcove that I frequently used.  “This is my favorite place in the castle.”  I spoke, climbing the small staircase that lead us up just above the lake’s shore.  The fresh air lapped against my face as we arrived, and I smiled for a brief moment before turning to the small boy next to me.

“I discovered this alcove during my third year.  I believe only Blaise, myself and Draco know it exists…as well as you now.”  His eyes darted around him, and I could see the hesitance in his stance as he looked everywhere but at me.   “What are you afraid of little snake?”  I asked, watching him carefully as he looked up at me.  A glimpse of fear flashed in his eyes before it was replaced by the cold empty look, he’d had all evening.  With a little work, he’d be able to school his emotions very well, I noted.

“Who says I’m afraid?”  He responded defiantly, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt.  This small child was trying to glare me down.

“Alright so you’re not afraid.  Merlin knows I was.”  I moved towards the railing that separated us from the water.  There were so many times throughout my years that I had considered just climbing over, plunging myself into the depths.  Still after all this time, free of my father, I felt a piece of me called to do just that.  “When I was 11, I was terrified of not living up to the several things I was supposed to be.  My father had been close friends with the Dark Lord in school.  He was much older than my mother.  There were expectations on me from my peers, my father, my professors.  It was like I didn’t know who I was supposed to please, and in that uncertainty,  I lost who I was.”

I couldn’t figure out at this point if I was talking to Xander or just needed to talk.  This was more words than I’d spoken to anyone the whole of last year.  “Do you believe in blood purity?  That my blood or yours is somehow better than muggleborns?  Than Hermione Granger?”  My voice nearly caught on her name, but I managed to steady it.  He looked at me with a guarded expression, clearly trying to access if this was a trap or not.  Sighing, I motioned for him to join me.

“Fine don’t answer me if you like.  I used to.  For the longest time I believed that I was naturally better.  More skilled with magic…more intelligent.  I chose to play at being mediocre once I realized that there were those who were better than me.  One witch in particular.”  I was frowning at him, but there was no heat behind it.  In fact, it amused me how much my father and his associates hated Granger.

“I…I was raised to believe in blood purity.  Cantakerous Nott and all that.”  He smiled briefly at me, and I smiled back at him.  It was quite entertaining to be from the family that quite literally wrote the book on blood purity.   “My father…”  He shuttered at the mention, and I couldn’t help but sympathize.  I’m sure he loved his father though, unlike how I loathed mine.  “When my father died, I was so angry at the light for his death.  It wasn’t until I was taken in my maternal grandmother that I found out the truth of who he was…of what he was?”

I regarded him with a look of disbelief, and nearly snapped my head towards him.  “You didn’t know he was a Death Eater?”  My voice grated between my closed teeth as I barked out the question.  Playing at ignorance was not something I would tolerate.

“Oh no…I meant that…He’d told me that he was fighting for a righteous cause, protecting me and all the other wizards from muggles.  My gran, she told me what he had done.  What the person he’d supported had done.  She taught me to see past what I’d been told my whole life.  I suppose that’s why I’m so scared of being in Slytherin.  I don’t believe in blood purity anymore, and I don’t think I can pretend to.”  In that moment, there was a fierceness in his eyes, and I was shocked how big this small child seemed.  I placed my hand in his hair and ruffled the dark curls that laid halfhazardly on top of his head.

We stayed for another few moments, breathing in the crisp air of the night.  Looking out into the distance, I couldn’t help but smile.  These peaceful moments out on the lake had been few and far between for the last few years.  For the brief minutes I stared off at the reflection of the stars on the water, I could forget everything the world expected of me.  I could forget my failures and my disappointments.  I could remember who I was beneath it all.

“We should head back soon.  Blaise will accuse me of trying to corrupt you before classes have even begun.”  I laughed at my own joke, which Xander tried to politely chuckle at.  “Before we do though, I want to make some rules.  Firstly, if you ever find yourself in trouble, run.  Last year was not a pleasant one for many of the students, and several members of our house played a hand in it.  As the children of Death Eaters, we are going to be targeted more than some of the others.”

“You want me to just run away like a coward?”  He responded, and I just shook my head.  There was so much this little snake needed to learn.

“No.  I want you to run away like a Slytherin.  Snakes are predators, but not in the same way as lions.  We hunt, we watch, we wait, and we strike when it will be most beneficial to us.  Slytherin house may not be known for our hospitality, but we take care of our own.”  Looking sternly at him, I waited for him to nod his understanding.  It was counter-intuitive for most to not fight when someone threatens you, but sooner or later he would learn how to handle his problems like a true Slytherin.

“Are there more rules?”

“Yes.  Two more.  The second rule is that I will be spending a good amount of time this year trying to best the smartest witch I’ve ever met, so I will not have my charge being sub standard.  We will study in the library every evening for at least two hours.  I will naturally be there for more time, but you will not have as much work as a first year as I do for my N.E.W.T.s.  The last rule is absolutely the most important.”  I paused for dramatic effect before enunciating my last rule clearly.  “Stay true to who you are.  There are still some in this house who wish that the Dark Lord had won.  Be careful who you trust.  Should you ever determine that you choose to believe in that blood purity bullshite, I will not hesitate to feed you to the wolves.” 

I placed my most deviously sweet smile on my face and made my way to the common room.  I didn’t have to turn to see if he was following me because I heard his every step echo on the stone.  The common room was quiet when we came in, and I motioned for him to go up and get ready for bed.  As soon as I entered, Blaise snapped his fingers and the rest of the students vacated the lounge area, heading up to bed.

Draco tapped twice on a piece of wood paneling with his wand, revealing a secret stash of firewhiskey.  Once we were all situated with a glass, I sat on the arm chair directly across from Draco.

“Welcome boys.  I do feel very strongly that it is time to make some plans.  How are we going to repair Slytherin’s reputation?  More importantly, how do we make sure that we’re worthy of a new one?”  Blaise’s normally coy smile was downturned, a serious frown and a hard expression.

Malfoy, still in his phase of wallowing in self-pity, just silently shrugged his shoulders.  He hadn’t been the boy I’d known for years at this point, but I found myself missing him now more than ever.

“I have a plot I’ve hatched.”  I spoke, watching as Draco and Blaise dragged their eyes over to me.  “I find myself tired of being underestimated and cast aside.  Overheard a certain member of the golden trio insisting that I was not a threat to her spot as the top student.” 

Blaise barked out a laugh at me, and I glared at him.  “Oh come off it mate.  There’s no way you’re going to beat out Granger.  Her nose is permanently glued to a book.”

“Yet I plan to do precisely that.  Everyone in this bloody school has no idea just what I’m capable of.  Granger will learn this the hard way, by watching someone beat her out for the top marks.  Hit them where it hurts you know?”  I raised my glass in the air.  Toasting to my maniacal plan.


	3. Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo is concerned when Xander doesn't arrive back at the common room after class.

It wasn’t unusual that students return late to our common room on Fridays, especially at the end of the first week of classes.  Xander had been following me like a lost duckling for the past week, so it was incredibly strange to not find my shadow coming through the door fifteen minutes after the first years were supposed to have been done with potions.  Cursing to myself, I rose from the soft comfort of the velvet chair I had been sitting in.  We were due to study in the library soon, and I was already sure that if he was delayed that meant that something was wrong.

Blaise caught my eye as he seemed to have come to the same conclusion.  It was only worsened when Milly’s first year, Seraphina came back, I knew that I had to do something.

“You.  Firsty.”  I called, watching as the girl shook at the address.  She was either very frail or she was doing a good job at pretending to be.

“Yes, Mr. Nott…sir.”  I nearly groaned at her behavior, but I had no time to waste.

“Where did you last see Xander?”  Her eyes grew wide at my question, and she began to bite at her lips. 

“Urm…I suppose it was when I was leaving potions.  I had to ask Professor Slughorn a question, so I stayed behind.  He had already left by the time I was done.  Is he not back yet?”  Despite the girl’s dark complexion, I could’ve sworn that she had become paler in the realization.  All the blood drained from my face as I realized the implication of what happened.  Blaise gave me a curt nod, and I was out of the common room before even a second had passed.

Thankfully my long legs and familiarity with the castle carried me quickly through the Dungeons towards the potion’s classroom.  He wasn’t in the room when I arrived, but that wasn’t entirely surprising.  Cursing myself quietly, I couldn’t believe that Milly’s new snake had been stupid enough to allow Xander to leave by himself.  As I struggled to figure out what to do though, I heard a shout and realized that perhaps he had not left by himself after all.

“Stop it!”  A voice called out, and I didn’t even have to think, my feet carrying me towards the distress.  A few turns and a long corridor later, I was shocked to arrive at a rather gruesome sight.  Xander was laying on the floor, blood trickling down the side of his face.  Black curly hair slicked back as dark red blood flowed from a nasty gash on his forehead.  His lip was bloody and split open, and his wand was on the floor next to him, being kept just out of reach.  Tears streamed down his face, although he refused to let out a sound, refused to whimper and cry.  Two Gryffindor boys stood around him, old enough to be too big to be picking on a first year, but young enough that I had no idea who any of them were.  My normal cool, calculated demeanor melted away, replaced with blind fury.  I had tolerated hexes and curses from the Gryffindors because I deserved it, but Xander…he had done nothing but be born to the wrong man.

“You will drop your wands now if you know what’s good for you.”  My voice was cold, crisp…a warning.  They were likely in their fourth year, no match for a fully-grown wizard, and yet they had numbers on their side.  One of the boys even had the gall to laugh at me, and I had to take a deep breath.

I brandished my wand, the last warning they would get.  What I didn’t calculate for, however, was the emergence of a third Gryffindor behind me.  I didn’t even think that there might be someone else until I felt the cold sting of a stupefy on my back.  Falling forward, I managed to keep my wand in my hand, trying to fight off the effects of the charm.  I cast a non-verbal hex at the one standing in front of me, but it missed his ankle.  That’s when the first boy’s foot connected with my stomach.  All the air rushed out of my lungs, and I found myself desperately trying to take a breath.  I didn’t have time to comprehend the pain before another blow was dealt, but this time to my face.  My nose shattered on the impact, and I could feel the warmth and taste the metallic burn of blood rushing between my teeth.  Xander was trying to scream, but one of the boys must have silenced him because no sound came out.

Taking advantage of their momentary distraction with Xander, I used all the energy I had to scramble to my feet.  Just as I was about to curse the boy who had kicked me in the face, my wand escaped my grasp.  Desperately, I tried to figure out which one of the boys had stolen my wand and was shocked to find all of them had been disarmed as well.

“Merlin, you can cast a non-verbal disarming spell powerful enough to get four wands?”  One of the boys asked, his voice filled with awe as he looked at whoever had disarmed them.

“You are incredibly lucky all I did was disarm you.”  I knew the voice before I turned around, and I hissed in realization.  Perfect Gryffindor princess Hermione Granger stood just behind him, her cropped curls hanging wildly around her face.  Her normally kind eyes were narrowed, and I hated myself for thinking that her scowl was rather cute.  I took a deep breath, or tried to rather, still recovering from the kick to my stomach earlier.  She would likely just give her housemates a slap on the wrist and take off fifty points each to me and Xander.  To say I was shocked by what she said next was an understatement.

“You are all a disgrace to our house.  How dare you attack not one but two students!  The Headmistress will be hearing about this immediately, and you should be so lucky as not to spend the rest of your years at Hogwarts serving detention.”  Her righteous indignance caused her hair to crackle with magic, and I couldn’t help but think she looked absolutely beautiful like this.

“But they’re snakes!  Plus, both of their dear daddies were Death Eaters!”  One argued, stepping forward towards the girl, who merely pointed her wand directly at his face.

“If we hex them and curse them because of their family, then we are no better than the bloody Death Eaters in the first place.  Jared, take Phillip and Wesley to Professor McGonagall’s office.”  Glaring at who seemed to be the oldest of the boys.  “If I find out you so much as stepped a toe out of the way to her office, you will regret it.”  Her voice rang through the room, and her crystal-clear enunciation even sent a shiver down my spine.  The boys all paled significantly but followed their orders.  One of the boys, either Phillip or Wesley, stopped to ask if they could have their wands back.

“No.  You will get your wands back after I arrive at the Headmistress’s office.  It will be up to her discretion of if you even deserve to carry them after this.”  Thoroughly shamed and seemingly terrified, the boy swallowed hard and followed along after his classmates.  When they were gone, she took a deep breath, and turned her fiery gaze towards me.

I was preparing for her lecture, but instead she simply moved closer.  Her small hand reached out to me, and I found myself staring at her in disbelief before realizing that she was offering to help me up.  If I had been anything but a Slytherin, I would have just taken her hand, but there was something in my pride that prevented me from doing that.  She seemed to realize this as well because she took her hand back and instead walked over to where Xander was trying to lean himself against the wall.

“Are you alright?”  She asked, her voice sweet and concerned.  Of course she was just this kind and self-less.  Bloody perfect Granger, being kind to snakes.  Xander was desperately trying to figure out a way around his silencing, but his charades were seemingly interrupted by how badly he was shaking.

“He was hit with a silencing spell.”  I offered; my voice guarded as I spoke.  It was the first time I had ever directly talked to Granger, and I still wasn’t sure she even knew who I was.

With a flick of her wand, she cast another non-verbal spell and it took all of my Slytherin training not to gape at her in awe.  She was truly a powerful witch.  The moment the finite waved over Xander, he quickly began to sob.  Granger, being the bleeding heart she was, wrapped him up in her arms.  A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes as she did so, and I nearly groaned.  It was a look that I had seen many times throughout the years; the little bastard was head over heels for the witch.  Of all people to develop a fucking crush on.

When his tears finally started to dry, she reached into her pockets and pulled out some essence of dittany and a calming draught.  “How in Merlin’s name did you fit those in your robes?”  I asked, eyeing her suspiciously.  There was no way that the phial that the dittany was in would fit in the standard robe pockets and absolutely no way that the calming draught would.

“Undetectable extension charm.”  She responded, her blasé description passing through her lips like it wasn’t a mastery level charm.  What annoyed me the most about her was how much every word that passed through her rosy lips made me lose more and more of my carefully crafted control.

“Thank you…both of you.”  Xander finally squeaked out, his voice still raw from screaming despite being silenced.

“You shouldn’t have let yourself be lured away.  If Seraphina has a question or needs to stay after class, you can bloody well wait for her.  Do you know how worr…”  I found myself suddenly remembering that Hermione Granger was in this hallway with us, and it forced me to take a deep, calming breath.  However, the deep, calming breath I had meant to take only served to irritate the burning in my lungs.

Sputtering, I hunched over, clutching at where the burning seemed to come from.

“Let me see.”  Granger insisted, removing herself from Xander and moving towards me.  Even if I had tried to stop her, she was doing some diagnostic spell before I had a chance to.  “You likely have a broken rib or two.  One is certainly poking into your lungs.  Both you and…”  She looked over to Xander, and I realized she probably didn’t know his name.  He seemed to get the idea, as he bowed and introduced himself.

“Alexander Rowle…Xander for short.”  There was something in her that seemed to change the moment she heard his name, and had I not been a carefully observant person, I may even have missed how her face changed.

“Well Xander…you…urm…go to the hospital wing.  I will accompany Theodore there once I have given him some potions as well.  Run along now.”  He seemed hesitant to leave, looking to me for some sort of permission before he did so.  I nodded my head once and he went off, albeit looking like a sad puppy the whole way.

I allowed her to touch my chest to put the dittany on where the boot had cut into my skin.  If I looked hard enough at the stone wall behind her, I could almost ignore how much my skin burned at her touch.  Her fingers lingered for a moment longer, and when she did draw them away, they took my breath with them.

“Why did your eyes change?  When Xander told you his name?”  I asked, running my hands through my hair.  I pulled my hands to my side once I realized I had done it.  Thankfully she didn’t know me well enough to know that I only did that when I was nervous.

“I…They didn’t.”  She responded, pouting at me as she put her healing supplies back into her magically extended pockets.  It took conscious effort to not stare at her honeyed eyes, effort that I did not have to spare.  There were flecks of gold mixed in with the browns in her eyes; I’d never been close enough to notice before.

I just sneered at her, rolling my eyes and snorting.  “I’m a snake Granger.  You’ll find you’ll have to get a lot better at lying before that works on me.”

Her back straightened, and she began to bite at her lip.  I found myself praying to every wizard I could think of to make her stop; mainly because I didn’t want her to.

“Well maybe I don’t pride myself on being a liar!”  She spat.  It was amusing, watching the lion try to imitate a snake.  My bored expression must have annoyed her because a pretty flush began working its way onto her cheeks.  “Fine.  If you must know…I killed his father.”  There was shame and discomfort and sadness and something else in her voice, and I couldn’t help but wonder how that many emotions fit into such a small statement.

“He won’t hold that against you.”  I told her, finding myself needing to comfort her for some reason.  I had to stop my hand halfway to reaching out to her.  Pulling it back to my side, I groaned as I stood.  “We’ve spoken about his father, and he has no desire to be his father’s son.  Thorfinn Rowle is dead, and he well-deserves to be.”  Her eyes snapped up to mine as I said that, and I could feel my face flushing under the scrutiny of her stare.  This was not only the most I’d ever spoken to the girl, but it was also the first time that I had really ever spent time near her.  Potty and Weasel had been rather faithful guard dogs during classes.  Even when she started taking Arithmancy and Ancient Runes without them, she had other friends.  She’d never taken the time to know me.

Walking was significantly less painful than standing, and soon we found ourselves walking in a slightly uncomfortable silence.  Gryffindor as could be, she seemed to have decided that silence was not going to continue.  “You seem different this year Nott.  Not that I have ever really known you before today, but you always seemed to fade into the background.”

“A lovely compliment.  Every man wants to hear he’s a background character in someone else’s story.”

“I feel like you rather intended to fade.  You didn’t want to be seen.  I can understand the sentiment.”

I scoffed at her, which earned a side-long glare from the little witch.  I didn’t normally realize just how tall I was, but her petite frame was so small next to mine.

“I don’t want to be noticed.  I didn’t end the bloody war to become famous!”  That part sounded like an argument that she had been through too many times, so instead I chose to answer her first accusation.

“I was afraid.”  I slowed my gate slightly to cause her less strain.  She had been struggling to keep up with me.  I don’t know why I admitted this to her, and had a sneaking suspicion that one of the pain potions she had given me was impacting my common sense.

“Afraid of what?”  She asked, and I couldn’t help but frown at her question.  It was a perfectly reasonable follow up to my statement and yet I found myself unable…no unwilling to respond.  No one had the right to know about that…not even Blaise or Draco.

Instead of responding, I just quickened my pace again, leaving a huffy Granger behind.  There was something fun in riling her up though I found, so when she caught up to me again I chose to feed her a detail to change the subject.  “You know Xander is madly in love with you now.  You’ll never be able to get rid of him.”  I expected her to grimace or scream or stomp off, but she didn’t do any of those things.  No, this strange witch laughed.

“Oh brilliant.  Just what I need.”  Her laughter echoed through the hall as they entered the main foyer.

“Excited to have a little snake as a shadow?”  I teased, finding that I liked her laughter.

“It reminds me of Ginny and Harry.  He saved her from Voldemort’s basilisk their second year and she fell madly in love with him.”  My eyes widened at her use of the Dark Lord’s name, and I couldn’t understand how this muggleborn witch could say it.

“Well I do think the situation is different.  The Weasel would hardly let you date a snake after all.  Plus, there is the matter of you being six years older than him.  I don’t know anything about muggle culture, but eleven is rather young for you to be courting.”  My smirk fell naturally on my lips, but I noticed that she returned to biting hers.  _It must be a nervous habit_ , I thought to myself.

“I will date whomever I please!  Ronald has no say in it!”  Her cheeks burned red as she yelled at me, and I found myself shocked at her response.  Before I could ask her if she meant Xander, she had softened again, and mumbled her apologies.

They spent the rest of the walk to the hospital wing in silence again, although a more comfortable silence than before.  Every once in a while, we would pass a student and Granger would take off points and send them off to their common rooms for being out past curfew.  By the time we arrived at the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey was waiting for us at the door.

“About time Mr. Nott.  Mr. Rowle told me to expect you several minutes ago.  Ms. Granger, you are free to go see the Headmistress.  Make sure those ruffians get what is deserved.”  The older woman huffed as she spoke, turning her back and walking into the room.  I took this as a sign to follow her.  Being a gentleman, I bowed to Hermione, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.  The blush that crept up her cheeks, as well as the way that she bit her lip made my heart beat fast.

“Until we meet again Ms. Granger.”  I spoke, parting from her and refusing to look back.  Plus if I had looked back, she would’ve been able to see a matching blush on my face.  This witch would be the death of me, one way or the other.


	4. Trade-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo is exhausted as he prepares for the upcoming midterm examinations, but finds help in an unexpected place.

I wasn’t sure what possessed me to believe that Hermione Granger simply lucked into good grades.  Certainly there was an inherent degree if intelligence that she seemed to be working with, but the more I prepared for our midterm examinations, the more I wondered just how that little witch managed so much learning in such little time.  The months of work I had been doing to put myself in the top was exhausting, but worth it as I was now performing at Granger’s level, even better in one class.

Of course, there was the incredibly annoying issue of Xander’s being utterly besotted with the curly haired bint.  Their nightly trips to the library had somehow become Xander updating me about Hermione this and Hermione that.  The worst part was how thoroughly I was annoyed by the boy but not by the information.

“And then Miss Hermione said that I’ve got to flick my wrist just so if I want the feather to raise properly.  You should’ve seen the look on the stupid puffs’ faces when a Slytherin was the first to do the spell right.  She’s amazing, Miss Hermione is.  I’m going to be Head Boy when I’m older just like Blaise.”  His chattering had finally grated on the last of my nerves, and I slammed down the book of runes I had been working with.

“Alexander Rowle, if you don’t cease your mindless commentary about everything Granger has said to you, I will be forced to silence you.”  His eyes widened as his cheeks ran hot.  The tell-tale red blush of embarrassment creeping up from his neck and settling just below his eyes.  I rolled my eyes at him; I would need to teach him how to school his emotions before I finished this year.  Couldn’t let him continue on being such an open book.

“Don’t you think that a bit harsh Theodore?  I do tend to say a rather lot.”  A voice called from behind me, and I couldn’t help but groan as he recognized just exactly who had spoken.

“Miss Hermione.”  Xander called, nearly toppling his chair as he rushed to stand to greet her.  If there is one thing that bloody boy remembered it was his pureblood manners.  He bowed to the girl and kissed her knuckles, which caused me to raise an eyebrow of suspicion at her.  She just shrugged and went to sit down in the seat across from me.

“What are you doing?”  I asked, trying to keep my voice even.  _Must this witch torment me?_   I thought as she pulled her longs curls up into a messy bun and wrapped some kind of muggle contraption around it.

Pulling out four or five books from that blasted bag of hers, she seemed to be settling in.  When I cleared my throat to prompt her to answer my question, she just sighed.  “What does it look like I’m doing Nott?  Studying.”  Without another word to me, she pulled out the same book that I had just been reading and I pinched the bridge of my nose.  Of all the bloody people in the world to bother him in the library, he wasn’t surprised it was her, but he also wasn’t particularly happy about it.

“Yes.  I can see that Granger.  But why?”  My whole body was tense as I watched the muggleborn witch drag her eyes away from her parchment up to meet mine.  Merlin her eyes were gorgeous; rich and deep brown with tiny flecks of gold speckling the rim.  I shook my head, hoping to banish these thoughts from my mind.

“I thought it would be beneficial to study with you.  You did better on Vector’s N.E.W.T. review than me and if I am to try to become a curse breaker next year than I will be needing excellent scores in Runes.”  I wasn’t sure in that moment what was more shocking to me: that Hermione Granger wanted my help with Ancient Runes or that she wanted to be a curse breaker.  Always figured her to be the ministry kind; I assumed that she would go fight for werewolf rights or house elf liberation or some rot like that after graduation.

I truly didn’t know how to respond, so I just decided to let it go, but not before shooting a warning look to Xander.  It took a moment for the boy to even notice my glare, seeing as he was making goo-goo eyes at Granger, but when he did notice me, he got the message.  My threat still stood.

The next hour or so of studying was done in relative silence except for when Xander had a few questions about the charm essay he was working on, or when Granger and I would consult about some particularly difficult translations.  What took me the most by surprise though, was how comfortable the silence was.

I had grown accustomed to silence in my years at Hogwarts; especially after I began purposefully fading into obscurity.   But it was rare that being silent around other people did not grate on my nerves.  Draco and Blaise were certainly among the crowd that I could be comfortable with, but there was no reason for me to feel that way about Granger.

With a stretch, the witch I had just been vexing over began gathering her things, and I could feel disappointment blooming in my chest.  “We should be getting back to our dormitories.”  She spoke, her voice breaking slightly after such a prolonged period without talking.  “It’s nearly curfew, and while I have permission to be roaming the halls as Head Girl, you are not afforded that same luxury.  Blaise would certainly be dismayed to know I allowed Slytherin house points to be put in jeopardy by causing two of its students to be out past curfew.”

Xander smiled brightly at the girl while I grimaced.  _Must she be so fucking considerate?_ I thought to myself.  But then I realized that she had said Blaise and not Zabini.  “I didn’t realize you and Blaise were such good chums.”  I commented, watching as she captured her bottom lip between her teeth again.  Merlin I wished she would stop doing that, because when she did, all I could think about was those pink lips and what I wanted to do with them.

“Yes well, we do share a living quarters.  There’s only so much indifference that can exist before a certain degree of familiarity is formed.  Although I must say that I would be much more willing to cultivate our friendship more if he didn’t constantly have…female visitors.”  Hermione blushed as she said this and I rolled my eyes.  Blaise was quite well-known as a womanizer, but to think that he was bringing his conquests back to the Head dorms was abhorrent.  The Italian was not ashamed of his sexual experiences, but he could at least try to be a little less shameless about it.  Xander’s eyes seemed to glow at this information, and I groaned.  That boy did not need to have Blaise as a role model to look up to.  He was a charismatic, intelligent and handsome bastard, but a bastard none-the-less.

Glancing at the clock on the wall above the Transfiguration books, I realized that Granger was right however; curfew would be soon and there would be no sense in walking the halls after curfew.  I began to gather my things as well, grabbing the open Rune book in front of me and the parchment I had been working on.

“Mr. Theo…”  Xander spoke, and I looked at him with such a deadly glare that I could hear his breath hitch and him swallow loudly.  Whatever he was going to say, he shook his head and began to pack his things as well.

Granger had such a methodical way of packing her things, I observed.  That blasted bag once again opening and carrying all of her parchments and books.  It was extremely advanced magic, and maybe when midterms were over I would do the same to my leather schoolbag; it was already large, but an undetectable extension charm would make it infinitely more useful.

“Theodore.”  Her voice broke me out of my observations, and I blushed slightly at realizing I had been caught.

“Yes Granger?”  I asked, trying to keep my voice even and free from the evidence of my embarrassment. 

“Might it be alright if I study with you again.  Harry and Ron…well I love my friends, but they are not superbly focused on N.E.W.T. review and while some people might be alright allowing fame and fortune to carry them through the world, I want to earn my way.  I really need to do well on my exams and having someone else who is as focused and dedicated and intelligent as I am to study with would be very helpful.”  My jaw nearly dropped as I considered what she had said.  Hermione Granger; war heroine, Gryffindor, muggleborn, wanted to study with me.  I couldn’t ignore the way that my heart beat faster when she complimented me, no matter how much I wanted to, so I just cleared my throat and placed on my Slytherin mask.

“I suppose it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement.  However I must warn you that I plan on performing to the top spot.  You’re not afraid of a little competition are you?”  It was one of my many coping mechanisms; sarcasm.  To my surprise though, she didn’t grimace or frown or call me a snake or insult me in any other way.  No this witch’s lips pulled up into a smile and she laughed at me.  Merlin I loved her laugh, I wanted to be the reason she laughed.

“Afraid?  Of you?  I have helped to defeat Voldemort you know.  I think I can handle some friendly competition.”

“Who says its friendly?  We aren’t even friends.”

“Maybe not yet Nott, but just you wait.”  I was still trying to decide if her words were a threat, a warning, or a promise, but regardless I was mesmerized with her declaration.  She wanted to be friends?

She said her goodbyes to Xander, who once again bowed and kissed her knuckles.  My embarrassment and confusion could not defeat my eighteen years of aristocratic preparation however, so I did the same.  Bowing low in front of her and catching a whiff of her vanilla and citrus scented perfume as I raised her hand to my lips.  She had the most delicious blush on her face when I rose to face her, and I realized that maybe studying again with her wouldn’t be so bad…not if I could hear her laugh or see her smile.

* * *

 

So that was a quick story of how in the name of all the founders I became study buddies with the golden princess of Gryffindor.  It was difficult to calculate exactly who had the biggest problem with the arrangement between Potty and the Weasel, but around the fifth week of our studying it became very clear that it was definitely the Weasel.

_“Oi Nott.”  The voice came from behind me and yet I knew exactly who it was.  Turning around, I watched as the ginger giant bounded up to me.  I’m not a short man, but I am rather lanky, so I was rightfully weary of the Weasel who was both as tall as me and probably twice as muscular._

_“Yes Weasel.”  I greeted, catching in the corner of my eye as Draco and Blaise paused slightly to my right, making sure I was alright._

_“I’d like a word.”  Weasel spoke in between his grated teeth.  “Alone.”  He added, glancing hatefully in Draco’s direction.  He hadn’t attempted to curse me yet, and I couldn’t see his wand, so I nodded slightly to my friends to let them know they could go.  Of course, if I wasn’t back in the Slytherin common room in 15 minutes to inform Slughorn of my absence and assume the worst._

_When the rest of the classroom was empty, I placed my bag down on a nearby desk, leaning against the edge of another.  I crossed my arms, placing my hand secretly on my robe.  He may be a reckless Gryffindor who could attack at any moment, but I was a Slytherin and I would be damned if we began this discussion on a level playing ground._

_“What is it I can interest you in?  I do believe this is the first we have spoken in eight years.  I am rather curious as to why that trend has been broken.”  I lifted my arm that wasn’t holding on to my wand and carefully examined my cuticles as if I was bored.  Looking at my hand allowed for me to see more of Weasley then had probably realized, and I smirked when I saw that vein pop in his neck that meant I had succeeded in annoying him._

_“You know what I’m bloody interested in.  Stay away from Hermione.”  There it was.  It took less time than I expected to pull out that Gryffindor recklessness._

_“I think you’ll find Weasel that I am hardly holding Granger hostage.  Besides, we are both benefitting from studying for our N.E.W.T.s; a concept which I’m sure is foreign to you.”  That comment fit everything I love in my annoying the weasel: calling him by his nickname he hates and reminding him that he is stupid and lazy._

_It wasn’t his wand that he approached me with, so I wasn’t prepared when his elbow was pushed under my chin and I was forced back to the wall.  The pressure on my windpipe made breathing difficult, but I refused to let the Weasel have any power over me.  “Listen to me you snake.  Stay away from Hermione.  She’s too kind for her own good and I’m not about to let your lot hurt her any more than you already have.  She may be willing to look past your dear Death Eater daddy, but I am not.”_

_There was a very short list of people who I allowed to mention my father to me.  Hermione had attempted to bring it up once, but I glared at her and ignored her.  Draco knew about my father’s abuse, but that’s just because his grandfather and my father were best friends and growing up he would occasionally see the bruises; but he never talked about it.  Blaise didn’t know about my childhood torment, but he knew not to bring it up.  The Weasel…the Weasel didn’t even come close to the list of people I would allow to mention my father._

_It was difficult to do, considering that my wand arm was fighting against Weasley’s elbow, but I tried to reach my wand in my left robe pocket.  My breathing became harder as I struggled against his grip, and I tried to take a deeper breath, finding air coming in gasps._

_Thinking back on my most recent study session with Granger, I was reminded about what she had said about wandless magic.  It was like holding sand.  Closing my eyes, I felt for my magic, grasping at it like a handful of sand.  “Stupefy.”  I shouted, surprised when a red beam of light left my right palm._

_The shocked expression on the Weasel’s face seemed to be stuck there as he recovered from my weak attempt at a wandless cast.  I was equally shocked that it had worked at all, and immediately thought about how I couldn’t wait to tell Hermione about his progress.  Panicking, I realized that I didn’t know when she had become Hermione.  “Never threaten me again Weasel.”  I warned, making a dash for my bag while the Weasel was still dazed by my spell and ran in the direction of my common room._

* * *

 

The Great Hall was commonly filled with chatter and gossip during morning breakfast, but when I walked in to eat the day after midterm grades had been posted, it was deadly quiet.  Every eye in the castle seemed to be fixed on me.

Sauntering over to the Slytherin table, it was easy to ignore everyone’s stares.  “Good morning gents.”  I greeted Draco and Blaise, finding the seat next to me already occupied by Xander.  “Don’t happen to have a clue as to why everyone seems to be staring at me do you?”

Picking up a piece of toast and beginning to spread some orange marmalade on it, I smirked at Draco the way I always did when I was pretending not to be nervous.  The hexes and curses thrown my way had significantly lessened since Hermione caught those Gryffindors all those weeks ago, but the air seemed to be filled with an animosity that made me worry.

“You seriously don’t know?”  Blaise questioned, raising his eyebrows at me as he popped a strawberry into his mouth.  Draco just shook his head and gestured for Blaise to explain.  “You really don’t.  Alright well, you’ve just become the most unpopular man in the castle, usurping our very own young Mr. Malfoy.”

My eyebrows knit together in confusion, and I looked between Draco, Blaise and Xander, trying to figure out why all of a sudden, the whole castle hated me.  “What did I do?  I haven’t cursed anyone since that Weasel incident and he bloody well deserved it.”

“Mr. Theo, midterm scores were posted today.”  Xander squeaked out, his normally cheery voice weighed down by anxiety. 

“Yes and your point?  I mean I believe I did well, but that shouldn’t mean the whole school hates me.  Malfoy here was second best in our year the whole bloody time and everyone just hated him because he was a bloody wanker…no offense.”  I glanced in Draco’s direction, and he just tipped his tea at me before taking another sip.  He knew he was a right bastard, so he couldn’t argue against it anyway.

“And the point is you’re not bloody well in second.  You beat Granger.  You beat the bloody Gryffindor princess in average score.  That’s why the whole bloody school is glaring at you.”


	5. Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo is dealing with the aftermath of having achieved his goal when suddenly the world is turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks so I'm super sorry this is so late but I have been sick for a few weeks now and I wrote most of this while under the influence of some heavy duty cold meds so I hope this makes sense. As always I am super super appreciative of any and all feedback on this story and I hope you enjoy!!

“What do you mean I beat Hermione?”  My voice was steady as my confusion set in.  By my calculations, I shouldn’t have surpassed Granger until the finals at the end of term.  Glancing over towards the Gryffindor table, Hermione’s back was turned to me, but I could tell by her body language that something was upsetting her.  Potty and the Weasel of course wasted no time in glaring at me when they noticed my line of sight.

“Hermione is it?  What an interesting development.”  Blaise pretended to pick at his nails and I silently cursed myself.  Of all the stupid slip ups to make, calling her by her first name was likely the stupidest.

“Oh shove off.”  Malfoy bumped his shoulder into Blaise with some strength, and the Italian looked at him with fury.  “You owe me twenty galleons by the way, but that’s not what’s important.  What’s important right now is that our very own Theodore is now the highest-ranking student in the school.”  I cast a glare towards the silvery blonde and then dragged my eyes dramatically over to my best friend.

“A bet?  What could you possibly have bet twenty galleons on?”  Blaise and Draco shared a smirk and I frowned at their big smiles.  There was nothing more dangerous than a smiling snake.

“I bet that you’d overtake Granger by midterms; Blaise said it’d take you until finals.”  The words came so easily to Draco’s lips, but I knew better than to believe him.  He was lying, but it wouldn’t it helpful to press him now.  No, I would reserve my knowledge that he was lying to me and play my hand when it would be most beneficial to me.

There was some sort of commotion over at the Gryffindor table, and we all looked over just in time to see Granger pull her arm back and slap the Weasel straight across the face.  The Great Hall once again grew silent, except for the sounds of Hermione’s heels clicking as she fled from the room.  Weasel seemed to want to go after her, but Potter shook his head and held him back.  My heart twitched for a moment as I stared after the retreating brunette.

I left my plate full and stood to rush after her.  I hadn’t even noticed that I had done so until Malfoy put a hand on my arm.  “Where are you going?”  His voice was low, not so much a threat as a warning.  He’d been friends with me for so long at this point that he must’ve known; he had to know.  Shoving his hand off, I grabbed my bag and made to leave the Great Hall.

Before I could reach the heavy set of wooden doors at the end of the hall, I was stopped by an impenetrable force of red hair.  Had I been paying slightly less attention, I probably would’ve bounced off the great oaf’s chest.  “Weasel.  Can I help you with something?”

His red hair was mussed, and a bright red spot was beginning to fill in on his cheek where Granger had smacked him.  I made a note to ask Draco to use his family’s pensieve to relive that memory later.  “I told you to stay away from her.”  His voice was low and threatening, and I had to give him credit that his technique had at least improved since his last attempt at threatening me.

“Yes.  You did.  And I suspect you’re about to do it again.  As I have just proven though, I am a rather intelligent man, and I find it tedious to speak to you unless you have something of worth to offer.”  I stood to my full height and moved slightly closer to the Gryffindor.  “I would’ve thought that last foolish mistake of yours would have been enough for you to lea…”  The air rushed out of my lungs as suddenly I was being pushed.  The Weasel couldn’t have done it though, as the rush came from the side.  I looked over and blanched as I saw Xander on the floor with lines of skin breaking apart and bleeding.

“Xander!”  My voice broke as I collapsed over to the boy.  Finding my wand in my robe sleeve, I tried to heal him, getting more and more desperate as nothing worked.  “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”  The Weasel was standing there, so still, more silent than I’d ever seen him, just staring at the boy he had cursed.  Before long, Potter was there.  I waited for him to say something to me, to make this whole thing worse, but he didn’t.  He merely raised his wand and muttered some sort of healing spell I’d never heard of.  Slowly, too slowly, Xander’s skin began to knit back together and the bleeding stopped.

“Nott.  Nott.”  It was Draco’s voice that called out to me, and I couldn’t figure out when he had gotten there.  “I’ll take Xander to the hospital wing.  I’m more than a little familiar with this spell, he needs Madam Pomfrey.”  How could I have forgotten?  This must’ve been the spell Potter used on Draco sixth year.  He had been in the hospital wing for almost two weeks after that.

They were gone before I could protest, or process that they had left.   That stupid first year just stepped in front of Weasley’s wand; stupid and reckless.

Rising, I couldn’t tell that I was covered in blood; that it had smeared on my face.  I couldn’t tell that I looked like a mad man.  “Weasley.”  My voice was quiet, but the Great Hall was so silent, I was sure he could hear me.  “You’re lucky Potter here was able to heal that curse.  So bloody lucky.  But I can guarantee that the next time you raise your wand to me, you will not be so lucky.  Last year…well last year I couldn’t cast the cruciatus…no you have to really mean it, and I could never.  I don’t have it in me.” 

Looking up at the boy who had just cursed a boy I regarded as my little brother, my eyes were cold and empty.  In that moment I’d never felt more like my father.  “Well I didn’t.  If Xander dies, so do you.”  I could see his throat constrict as he swallowed.  Seven years of study provide ample opportunity to learn people’s tells, and the Weasel was afraid.  I couldn’t blatantly threaten him with he cruciatus, but I thought my threat had made it through his thick skull.

When I left the Great Hall, there were footsteps following me, and I tried to figure out whose they could be.  Blaise would never run like that, he hastened at best.  The Weasel, no his footsteps were much too heavy.  Draco had taken Xander to the hospital wing already so it wasn’t him either, which left only one option.

“Stop following me Potter.”  I halted when the steps following me didn’t, and turned slowly.  It was indeed Harry Potter who was facing me.  It was likely the most alone time we had ever spent together in all our years of schooling.  He looked fiercely uncomfortable, and I had to school my face to not display the immense worry I felt.

“I…Ron…He shouldn’t have done that.  To that first year or you.  Its…He’s been off since the war.  Not trying to make excuses, but his brother was killed during the final battle.  You and Malfoy and your…well your parents, they represent everything that led to the death of his brother.”  I scoffed at this.  Not that it was wrong, I did represent everything that the Dark Side had stood for.

“Weasley split an eleven-year-old open.  I am covered in the blood of a child, and you come to me with some sob story about his dead brother.”  I spat the last few words.  It was awful that the Weasel had lost someone, but that curse…it was dark magic, and dangerous magic, and he had meant it to kill me.  “That curse was not residual hurt from the war, that was an attempted murder.  Bet you’re awfully disappointed that he missed.  I know I am.”  I could feel tears sting at the corners of my eyes and I turned away, nearly running to the hospital wing. 

The doors flew open as I arrived, and I rushed over to where Xander was laying in a bed.  Madam Pomfrey stood over him as Draco sat in a chair some distance away.  “I understand this is the same curse you were hit with two years ago Mister Malfoy.  Do you have any recommendations to assist his recovery?”

The miserable look on Draco’s face was obvious, and I doubt it would have been there if he had registered my presence.  Placing a hand on his shoulder, he looked up at me with nothing behind his silvery eyes.  Sixth year had been the beginning of the worst years of his life, and I know for a fact that when Potter had cast that spell on him, Draco had hoped it would kill him.  He shook his head at Pomfrey, speaking softly, “Whatever you did was very helpful to my recovery.  He just needs blood…and time.”

“Mr. Nott, I know you are concerned for Mr. Rowle, but there is nothing more you can do today.  I suggest that you go clean yourself up before classes.”  She waved her wand, using a non-verbal accio to retrieve a small piece of parchment from her office.  Handing it to him, she smiled sadly.  “This is a pass to the hospital wing.  When Mr. Rowle is ready for visitors, it will glow with a faint gold light.  I can tell that you are concerned for him, and I won’t lie to you and say that I am sure he will be fine.  Mr. Malfoy was sixteen when this spell hit him, Mr. Rowle is only eleven and he’s lost so much blood.  I will do everything I can, but I cannot make any promises.”

Her voice was hitting my ears, but I wasn’t comprehending what she was saying, not really.  I grabbed the pass in my hand and shoved it in my pocket.  Xander would be alright.  No, he had to be alright.

I felt Draco stand and approach me, and his hand press against my back, pushing me lightly towards the door.  I followed him, after all, Madam Pomfrey could ban me from the wing if I didn’t listen, and I needed to see Xander, to know he was alive.

“I’ll…well urm, best to get yourself sorted out before you go back to the common room.”  Malfoy warned, and the intent behind his voice was clear.  The Slytherins do not abide by weakness.  If I walked into the snake pit with tears streaming down my face, they would never forget it.

I nodded tightly and walked around the corner, finding the nearest boy’s restroom.  It was thankfully empty, which made sense because breakfast was likely still happening, and I stared at my reflection in the warn mirror.

My crisp white dress shirt and grey vest were splattered with blood, evidence of when I attempted to stop the bleeding.  My outer robes weren’t visibly bloody, but I could feel the weight of it on me.  If there was one thing that I had learned from years of abuse, it was how to get blood stains out of anything.  The incantation was simple, and moments later, I looked as pristine as I had when I left the common room.  Running the faucet, I wet my hair, slicking it back.  It wasn’t often I did this, but hair was tricky and I wanted to make sure there was no more of Xander’s blood floating around.

I would need a more thorough scrubbing later, but for now it would do.  Once last check over in the mirror and a quick washing of my hands, and I exited the toilet.  I had only taken a few steps towards the stairs when I heard a feminine voice calling out and an accompanying banging noise.

“Please!  I just want to make sure he’s alright!”  The voice was frantic and clearly the girl was crying, and my heart twinged as I realized who it belonged to.  As I rounded the corner, Hermione Granger with her short hair pulled back in a messy and somewhat unsuccessful ponytail was in tears outside the doors of the hospital wing.

“She won’t let you in Granger.  She’s fixing him up.  He’s…well he’ll be alright since you’re so worried.  No thanks to that moronic boyfriend of yours.  Should he ever raise his wand against me or Xander again, I will be well within my rights to utilize the particularly nasty hexes and curses in my family tomes.”  I made sure to keep my voice level and just threatening enough, after all, she was not my intended target.  The lie I had snuck in there came from somewhere, but I wasn’t certain if it was my own denial or a need to bring some level of comfort to the crying witch.  Every part of me hoped that Xander would be okay, but I couldn’t forget the haunted look behind Pomfrey’s eyes when she had talked about just how much blood the small boy had lost.

“Ronald is a prat and I am currently not speaking to him so you have my blessing.”  She rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, and I reached into my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief.  Growing up, the one thing I always remembered my maternal grandfather teaching me was that a proper gentleman carries a handkerchief at all times for exactly these types of situations.  She blinked at me for a few moments before bursting out laughing and snatching the piece of fabric.

“What’s so funny Granger?”  I asked, the iciness of my anger melting slightly at the beautiful noise of her laughter.  Glancing at the double doors that were shut behind her though, my steely sneer returned.

“You would carry a handkerchief is all.  Such a gentleman.”  She blotted her face with the soft fabric, and though her tears has slowed, her eyes still held the evidence of her sadness.

“So the Weasel is in the dog house?  Just took him nearly killing a first year to do it eh?”  There was a sharp edge to my joke and I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips.  She looked up at me with those wide doe eyes of hers that seemed to be flowing like a liquid.

“Ron has…I used to make so many excuses for his behavior because we’re friends, but his behavior this year has been abysmal.  Couldn’t even finish my charms exam properly because Ronald and I had gotten into a tiff beforehand.”  Her misery was apparent, and she sank to the floor, pulling her knees tightly into her chest.

It was my turn now to burst into spontaneous laughter, which caused her to glare at me through her tear stained cheeks.  “I’m sorry Granger it’s just…I knew I couldn’t have beaten you so easily.  I’m not…that is to say I’m not glad that you had a tiff that caused you to do poorly, but Merlin it makes so much more sense now.”

She tried to fight the smile that was pulling at the corners of her lips, but in the end, she lost out and ended up joining me in laughing.  Hearing her laugh and seeing her smile was almost the perfect cure for my worries, but then I would catch the door in my peripherals and be reminded of why we were here in the first place.

“Granger…”  I began, interrupting the silence that had fallen over us after the laughter had died.  Our friendship…though I was hesitant to think of it like that, was so fragile, so new.

“Oh for Circe’s sake Theodore, call me Hermione; we’ve been studying together long enough.”  I swallowed heavily when she said my name, focusing intently on a chipped brick in the wall opposite where I was sitting to refocus myself away from how heavenly my name sounded spilling from her lips.

“Hermione then, if you don’t mind my asking, what did you and the Weasel fight about?  It must have been something serious to distract the brightest witch of her age in a subject she’s been ahead in since the first day of first year.”  Her features tightened as a deep blush worked its way slowly from her neck to her cheeks like a drop of blood dissipating through a pool of water.  It flowed up and pooled in the apples of her cheeks as she opened her mouth as if to say something.  Before she could, I interrupted, holding up a hand.  “And just a reminder before you spew whatever lie you’re weaving in that big brain of yours; you can not lie to a Slytherin…we always know.”

She groaned at that, and I couldn’t quite figure out if its because I was right that she had a lie planned and had been caught or that I was right about snakes being excellent at sniffing out deceit.  “I…urm well….Godric this is so embarrassing.  It was about you.”

To say that it felt like my eyebrows had left my face and ventured towards the ceiling was an understatement.  I was quite certain that my jaw was hanging open in a most undignified manner.  “Me?!?!”  I sputtered, nearly choking on the air as I spoke the word.  The Weasel and Hermione had fought over me.

“Yes well Ronald…Harry, Ron and I went on the run hunting Horcrux’s last year and well, Ron left us.  He abandoned us halfway through when the going got tough.  I’ve never been able to forgive him for that.  He approached me about our study sessions and he…well he had some unkind words to say about the fact that I couldn’t forgive his cowardice but I’ve forgiven yours.”

“You have?”  I said after a moment of thought.  She was…she was too good for me, in every conceivable way, and if she had even considered forgiving me for my role or lack thereof in the war than that was more true now than even before.

“Of course.  We’re friends.  It took me a while to truly see you Theodore Nott, but I see you now.  You didn’t want to be a Death Eater.  You just wanted to survive, and I will never fault anyone for doing what it takes to survive.”  Hearing those words broke something in me, and all I could do is rise to my feet.  If I was going to have a fucking breakdown, it would most definitely not be in front of the epitome of everything that I would never deserve to have.

“You think you know everything!  You don’t know shite.  You weren’t here last year.  You don’t know me…you don’t see me.  No one has ever seen me, certainly not a mudbloo….”  I cut myself off before I could finish the word, but it was too late.  Her retreating footsteps were echoing through the hall before I could even call after her.

“FUCK!!!”  I screamed, connecting my right hand into the stone wall.  Three distinct crunches resounded in the empty hall followed by my scream of pain.  Of all the dumb shit I’d done in my life, I just had to open my damn mouth.   I angrily banged on the door to the hospital wing, having to yell through the door that I thought I had broken several bones in my hand before Madam Pomfrey finally opened the door.

“What happened to you Mr. Nott?”  Her prim voice questioned as she pulled him into her infirmary.

“I’ve just ruined my life is all ma’am.”


	6. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theodore is miserable after he had ruined his relationship with Hermione. He visits Xander in the hospital wing hoping that seeing his favorite young snake will cheer him up, but little does he know that there is something plotted for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Sorry for the delay, I've just been having a horrible bout of writers block, but the only way to deal with writers block seems to be to work through it, so here's the next chapter. As always, please comment and leave kudos because it absolutely makes my day!

To say that I was even more of a miserable sod in the days following the mudblood incident was a painful under exaggeration.  Hermione hadn’t spoken to me in the meanwhile, not even one word in passing.  I couldn’t even properly be cross with her because it was no less than I deserved.  Its how I have always handled myself, lashing out when people got to close.  There was a good while after the Yule Ball when Draco and I weren’t on friendly terms because he pointed out how long I had stared after Hermione.

Draco and Blaise had tried to help, but I refused to tell them what was going on.  Blaise…well Blaise would try to fix it and Draco would just point out, rightly so, that its my own bloody fault.  Weasel seemed to not be forgiven either, as Hermione would arrive early for meals and sit as far away from the oaf as possible.

Madam Pomfrey had tried to insist on healing my hand, but I refused, telling her that the pain would remind me of my mistakes.  Sure it had been a little dramatic, but I did deserve it after what I said to her.  Once it became clear that she would not be open to forgiving me by the third day straight she had blatantly ignored my attempts to speak with her, I dedicated myself to helping Xander heal.  I would play exploding snap with him in between classes and tutor him so he didn’t fall behind on his assignments.  Potter even came to visit once or twice, which I assumed was due to a combination of nagging on Hermione’s part and guilt about having been the one to teach Weasel the spell.

“Mr. Theo,”  Xander asked me, bringing me out of my thoughts.  My mind had drifted off from the book I had been reading long ago, so I straightened my posture and closed the book with a snap.  He was working on his charms essay on expelliarmus, and we had been sitting in silence for quite some time.

“Yes little snake?”  I asked, turning my gaze to his.  The curse had managed to avoid most of the visible places on his body, but the edge of one of his scars could be seen near the collar of his shirt.  Everytime he spoke to me, I found my eyes inadvertently drifting to where the soft grey shirt met his neck.

“Why does Ms. Hermione never come visit me when you’re here?  She says its because she’s cross with you, but she won’t tell me why.  Its not…its not my fault is it?”  Xander’s large brown eyes reminded me too much of hers in that moment and I looked away, fixing my gaze instead on the gauze wrapping my broken hand. 

“No, no…not your fault.  Its no one’s fault but my own.  I’ve just…I’ve really mucked things up.  Said some things that were…unforgiveable.  She has every right to be cross with me.  I called her…well I called her a muggleborn.”  My in-tact hand began to play with the frayed edge of my wrapping, as I continued to avoid the eyes I could feel looking at me.

“What’s so wrong with that?”  Xander asked, “She is a muggleborn.  Ms. Hermione is not the type to care about that stuff.”

“I didn’t use the term muggleborn though.”  I admitted, the words feeling like acid coming up my throat.  Xander may have been the only person in this whole bleeding school who didn’t think I was rotten, and now that would surely be ruined.

“What do you…oh…Oh.  But you…you told me you didn’t care about all that rubbish.  On my first day here, you asked me if I did and you told me you didn’t.”  His indignation was evident in his voice, and I finally couldn’t avoid his eyes anymore.  Bringing mine slowly up to his, I was not surprised to see a scowl and anger in his eyes.  Worse than anger, underneath that was disappointment.

“I don’t.”  I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.  It was strange to me, to be called out so directly by a boy half my age, but here I was being rightfully accosted by a first year.  “She…When I was growing up my father…he used to beat me.  I was never good enough for him.  I had a friend once; a little girl that I would see when my mother would take me to the market.  I was only five or six, but we used to play together.  One day, I told one of my father’s friend’s sons about my friend.  Turns out she was a muggleborn.  I hardly understood what that meant, but I learned on the crack of my father’s belt.  I was never allowed to see her again, and I’ve never allowed anyone close to me again.”  I realized I had been rambling, and quickly cleared my throat.

“Draco is the only person who knows about my father.  You are the first person in my whole life I have ever told.”  The stinging in the back of my eyes threatened to give way to tears, and I had to force myself to stand to face the window.  I would not allow myself to cry, not while Xander was still bedridden.  Many people had it worse than me.

“What does that have to do with you calling Ms. Hermione a…you know?”  His voice was behind me now, but I could hear his every emotion.  He desperately wanted to understand, to listen to my excuses.

“She was getting too close.  She was getting too close and it scared me so I did what I always do and I pushed her away.  Not that that matters.  There is no excuse in the world that I could come up with that could excuse me calling her that.  She even…she said that she was my friend and I was horrible to her.”  Clearing my throat, I could tell that tears were only moments away.  Turning on my heels crisply back towards Xander, I forced a Slytherin smile.  “Anyway, there’s no need to worry.  She still adores you.  Now I believe you were working on a charms essay?”

Heels clicked against the stone, and I looked up, expecting Madam Pomfrey for another dose of pain relief potion.  Instead, I nearly gasped to find the very curly-haired witch that had been avoiding me for days.

“You really are quite the little Slytherin.”  She spoke, her gaze moving right past me to Xander.  “Quite devious, your plot.  How did you manage to get the timing right?”

Xander beamed at her as she went over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.  “It wasn’t all that hard.  You’re quite predictable Ms. Hermione.  This was the only free period you both have in common.”

“What…what?  Granger you…how long have you been standing there?”  The blood drained from my face as I went through what I had said.  Had she heard about my father?  I could feel my heartbeat increase as dread filled me.  No one knew, and now bloody Hermione Granger would know.

“Long enough Theodore.  You…why didn’t you tell me?  Why didn’t you tell anyone?  That’s…living with that burden all these years.”  My face was tight as I panicked.  She knew.  She knew and now it was only a matter of time before it made its way back to Potter and Weasley and then everyone would know.  Clenching my fist at my side, pain splintered up my arm as I realized it was my injured hand.

“Buggering fuck!”  I exclaimed, pulling my injured hand tightly to my chest before glaring at Xander.

“Mr. Theo.”  Xander called, clearly distraught to see me in pain.  As much as I wanted to be, I couldn’t even be mad at the blighter; he couldn’t have known where all my trauma came from.  I could see it now clearly that he had planned for me to explain myself to him and for Hermione to overhear, but it had gone so spectacularly wrong.

“Language!”  Hermione chastised, approaching me and grabbing at my broken hand.  I tried to pull it away from her, but her grip was like a vice.  “Your hand is broken, why haven’t you let Madam Pomfrey heal this?”  There was concern and annoyance in her voice as she reached her hand into her ever-present expandable bag and pulled out some phials.

“Merlin you just happen to have fucking skele-grow in your bag?  Must you be so insufferably perfect so constantly?”  The pain from my hand and my terror at the thought that this Gryffindor now knew my deepest darkest secret caused my voice to be much harsher than I intended.

“I am most certainly not perfect.”  She responded, all emotion in her voice emptying, leaving nothing but coldness behind.  There was something jarring about seeing the normally passionate girl so empty and cold.  It sent shivers down my spine, and I sat in silence for a moment and just let her heal my hand.  Skele-gro tasted as awful as it had when I’d broken my leg as a child, but this time there was no whinging to accompany it.  I swallowed it down quickly, feeling it as it passed like molasses down my throat.

The silence was nearly unbearable by the time she was done, and Madam Pomfrey chose an excellent moment to sweep into the room.  “Mr. Nott, I see you’ve finally seen sense and allowed someone to heal your hand.  I would be concerned about the quality of care coming from any other student, but Ms. Granger was very handy in helping me at the Battle of Hogwarts.  I’ll just be giving Mr. Rowle his pain relief potion and then I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you Madam Pomfrey.”  Hermione offered, using her wand to clean up the supplies she had used to heal and redress his hand.  The older woman was either oblivious to the incredibly tense environment in the room or was simply choosing to ignore it, which was what I was putting my money on.

Her footsteps began to fade away, and Hermione went to move.  I grabbed her hand before I had realized it and found myself staring into her eyes.  I very nearly did not have the courage to say what I was thinking, but the words somehow managed to bubble to the surface.

“I’m sorry Hermione.  I’m so sorry.  You were trying to be kind and I was cruel.  I don’t believe in all that blood shite anymore.  I haven’t for years.  Please…please don’t ignore me.”  Any other day to any other person, the begging tone of my voice would have disgusted me.  Even now nearly a year after my father’s death, I could still hear his harsh voice, _“Nott’s are better boy; remember that.  We do not beg and we do not yield; we take what is ours.”_   In that moment though, I would have done anything to keep her eyes on me.  The curve of her lips, the way that her auburn curls bounced against her rosy cheeks, I didn’t know what I would do without this witch in my life.

“Theodore…I...”  She paused, glancing nervously over at Xander.  Fidgeting, she began to bite her lips the way she often did when she was anxious, and I dropped my head.  I didn’t deserve her forgiveness, but I prayed for it.  “Can I speak to you privately?”  She finally spoke, glancing between me and Xander.  Xander seemed to be sending me a nervous half smile, but nodded his head that it was alright.  It only took a moment for me to nod my head and begin following her.  We left the hospital wing, taking a few turns until we were in an unused classroom I didn’t recognize.

“I did not know about your past Theo, but you are right that they do not excuse your actions.  It has been a long time since being called a mudblood has hurt me.  I wanted to show you something, but I didn’t want Xander to see.”  Heat rose to my face as I considered what she could mean.  Swallowing the lump from my throat, I decided that remaining silent was my best option.  She placed her bag on a desk nearby and began to take off her robes.  Before my brain could wonder anymore what was going on, she began to roll up her sleeve.  Casting a quick spell, the pale creamy skin of her forearm began to fade away, replaced by an angry red scar.

I gasped when I saw it, and nearly threw up.  Mudblood was carved into her skin like a name tag, and the puffy pinkness led me to believe that it was no normal blade that did it either.  “Who?”  The word fell past my lips before I could stop it, managing to hold myself back from reaching out and touching the welts.

“Bellatrix Lestrange.  She wasn’t satisfied when her torture didn’t break me, so she decided to put me in my place.  You were the first person to call me that since this happened and I…it hurt more than I could’ve possibly imagined.”  Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes, and I chastised myself for thinking how beautiful she looked.  Instinct took over though, when the hurt began to show in her face, and I wrapped my arms around her.  I had been an affectionate child; loving to give hugs to all those around me, but like everything else good in my life, my father had soon beat it out of me.

She wept as I held her in my arms, and slowly she began to hug me back.  I didn’t know how long she had cried, but I didn’t care.  “I didn’t know.”  I squeaked out as the writhing began to slow.

“Yes well, I suppose we all have our secrets.  You asked me before if I always had to be so perfect…I’m not.  I’m supposed to be this Gryffindor Princess, heroine of the golden trio, but deep down I am terrified.  I didn’t belong in the muggle world because of my magic and then I got here only to find people who told me I didn’t belong in the magic world either.  Third year, do you remember what my boggart was?”  Her voice was broken, and her face was puffy from crying.  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my handkerchief and once again handed it to her.

“You saw McGonagall giving you a failing grade.  Slytherin got a kick out of that for weeks.”  I scowled as I recalled.  I had refused to participate in the exercise; I didn’t want my classmates to see my father with a belt in his hand.  He hated muggles, but there was always something about physical punishment that gave him a hankering to get his hands dirty.

“Professor McGonagall…”  She corrected, the corners of her lips quirking up in an attempt at a smile.  “I wasn’t afraid of a failing grade, I was afraid that if I wasn’t the best, if I didn’t have perfect grades and strong magic that I would be kicked out of Hogwarts; out of this magical world.”

I leaned against a nearby desk and considered her.  I had never known a time without magic in my life, and it was hard for me to imagine not being surrounded by it.  It must’ve been terrifying to imagine losing it.  “That…that sounds awful.  You don’t need to worry though.  You’re brilliant, and you deserve to be in this world same as anybody else.”

She sighed suddenly, and I wondered what I had said wrong.  I was just mucking this up even worse.  “But what if I wasn’t brilliant Theo?”

“But you are.”  I countered.

“But what if I wasn’t.  What if I was rubbish at transfigurations and charms…what if I was just an average witch?  Regardless of the progress that’s been made since Voldemort’s death, I still need to be twice as good as a pureblood to earn the novelty of being considered.  Muggleborns have to work twice as hard because everywhere we go we need to prove that we have earned the right to exist.  That’s what Bellatrix was telling me when she sat on top of me and carved this vile word into my arm; that I do not deserve the right to exist.”

The anger in her voice surprised me, and even though she was nearly a foot shorter than me, it felt as if she was towering over me.  I thought for a moment she might storm away again, so I reached out just in time to grab her wrist.  “You’re right Hermione, and I keep cocking this up.  I don’t want to upset you.  You and every other muggleborn are born with magic and deserve to be in this world no matter how skilled or intelligent or powerful.”  After a moment of consideration, I swallowed back my pride and decided to be brave for once in my life.

“Do you know why I stopped believing in blood purity?”  She shook her head, her calculating gaze examining me.  Since I was leaning on a desk, she was only a bit shorter than me, so her eyes were nearly aligned with mine.  “You.”

“Me?”  She asked, disbelief dripping from her tongue.

“You.  You were the most brilliant witch I’d ever seen, and were you parents Sacred 28?  No.  Were your parents pureblooded?  No.  You were a muggleborn, so according to everything I’d ever been taught, you shouldn’t have been the smartest or the strongest or the most-skilled, but you were.”  I took a deep breath, moving my grip from her wrist to her hand.  “And you were beautiful.  Not in a way that I had ever seen.  You were fierce and it hit me that everything I’d been told was wrong, because you were too perfect for them to be right.”

My eyes had drifted down to watch her fingers in mine at the beginning of my story, but I fought my cowardice and looked right up into her amber eyes.  They were so deep in that moment that I felt I may drown in them, and before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us.  My kiss was chaste, my lips meeting hers in an exploration.  I had dreamed about those lips, and they were just as soft as I had hoped.  I pulled away after a moment, drinking in the euphoria of my little stolen romance.  If I never got to be near her again, I would have this.

She stared at me, her jaw hanging open for a moment before placing her fingers delicately on her lips.  Her cheeks burned with a new fury, and I could feel mine begin to heat as well.  “I’m sorry…I’ve just wanted to do that for so long.  I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore.”  Her expression was unreadable, which was rare for a Gryffindor.  My heart sank with each moment of silence, and I couldn’t take it anymore.  I stood, planning to escape from the room with at least some dignity, but what I didn’t expect was for Hermione to nearly jump on me, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

This kiss was much less chaste than the previous one, and there was a mutual burning.  I pressed my lips into hers, swirling my tongue along them until she granted me access.  She tasted like cinnamon and vanilla, and I began to get lost in our passion.  Snogging had never been something I had ever experienced, but this was heavenly.  We broke apart moments later out of a need for air more than anything else, and I couldn’t prevent the bright smile that broke out across my face.  My cheeks burned from the force with which I was smiling.

“So…urm…I sort of fancy you.”  Her voice breaking through my panting breaths, and soon both of us were laughing.

“I should say so.  I would hope you don’t go off snogging any old bloke like that.  Merlin Hermione.  So what now?  I mean I’ve fancied you for years, but I’m not sure I want to be avadad by Potty or the Weasel.”  Hermione glared at me for the use of the derogatory nicknames for her friends, but it didn’t hold back her smile for long.

“Well I suppose we can either go back to Xander as if nothing has changed or we can discuss what this means for us.  I was so cross with you only an hour ago and now I just snogged you within an inch of your life.”  I could tell that saying those words embarrassed her, but my pretty little lion didn’t back down.

“Yes well you had…have every right to be cross with me.”  I grabbed her arm, running my fingers across the cursed scar.  “You didn’t deserve any of this.  You didn’t deserve to be tortured or scarred or belittled or attacked.  It won’t be a popular decision if you are willing to give this a go.”

She scoffed at my oversimplification and soon I joined her in a bout of stunted laughter.  It would be a flip of a coin whether Gryffindor or Slytherin would take the news worse, but I would bet on Slytherin any day.

“As if I would ever let public opinion determine what I can and can not do.  Honestly this can’t be worse than when that dreadful Skeeter woman reported that I was dating Harry.”  She shuttered at the thought, and I laughed again.  “I didn’t expect to fancy you.  Our study dates in the library were for convenience at first.  Runes is one of my favorite subjects, but sometimes I have a hard time working through it.  It was a shock to me when I discovered just how witty you are.  Intelligent and handsome too.”

I raised my head as if to bask in her complements and felt her hand swat at my chest.  “Don’t go getting a big head about it.  Honestly I can’t even believe I am dating such a self-absorbed narcissist.”

“So we’re dating?”  I asked, having ignored everything else she had said.  Not to be overly dramatic, but this was shaping up to be the best thing that had ever happened to me.  I needed to get Xander a fruit basket or a new broom or a satchel full of galleons.

“Yes.  Unless you have any objections?”  She was teasing me, but I didn’t mind.  Hermione Granger was my girlfriend.  Just wait until Blaise and Draco found out about this.

“Well in that case, ready to go back to Xander?  I feel its only right he’s the first to learn the news.”  I held my arm out to her as I’d been raised to when escorting a lady, and she laughed lightly when she took my arm.  I hadn’t even realized how much I had missed her laugh until it had been gone.

“Lets go.”  Hermione declared, wrapping her petite fingers around my forearm.  Hogwarts was in for quite the shock, and I for one, was excited to stir the cauldron just a bit.  Of course now, there was only the matter of Potty and Weasel to worry about.


	7. Turmoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo is surprised to find that there is no catastrophic event when Hogwarts discovers his news. Despite some passing unkind words and upturned noses, everything is the same. Well...mostly everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay folks. I have been having the most horrific writer's block, and it was a struggle to even get this out. I hope that this chapter is alright, and I will try to get back to regularly updating. The school year is starting soon so I should be able to get back into a schedule of some sorts. Anyway, all comments and kudos are deeply, deeply appreciated, and I would love to have feedback on this chapter since I don't believe its one of my best.

The reaction of the school to my new relationship status was one of shock, disbelief, and betrayal.  Many a student came up to me and tried to threaten me to stay away from Hermione.  By the fifth Gryffindor I’d interacted with, I could very nearly predict what they would say.  I didn’t care about being berated or hexed, Merlin knew I definitely deserved their rage and disappointment.  However, I was much less amused when that same vitriol was sent Hermione’s way.  We were walking hand in hand from breakfast towards the Arithmancy classroom when I first hear someone an untoward comment about my witch.  I had snapped around, ready to duel whoever had dared to insult her, but she held my arm firm and shook her head.

“I’ve had quite enough of senseless violence Theodore.”  Her voice was calm, but Gryffindor as she was, I could read her expression like a book.  The sadness behind her eyes hid when she looked at me, but evidence of it could still be found in the downturned corners of her lips.  I didn't fight against how she distracted herself, pulling me into a nearby empty classroom for a quick snog.  Slytherin house, other than some upturned noses, had been indifferent towards the new development.  One particularly stupid third year mumbled something about my sullying of the Nott family name, but Draco glared at him and I was sure the kid nearly soiled himself.

Potter had been surprisingly accepting of their union, offering me an extended hand for a shake.  The Weaselette told me to my face that she didn’t like me and didn’t think I was good enough for her best friend.  It had been hilarious watching her face when I agreed with her.  After that, she looked at me differently, although I was still uncomfortable under her gaze.  The Weasel…oh the Weasel was another story.

Hogwarts had more than its fair share of tragedies in the past decade; the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the death of Cedric Diggory, Dolores Umbridge being made headmistress, the death of Dumbledore, and the Battle of Hogwarts being only a few.  Finally after there seemed to be peace, and evil incarnate had been destroyed, I had hoped that life would be less eventful…I was wrong.

Xander had been allowed out of the hospital wing after another week of treatments.  His demeanor had been downright cheery for someone who very nearly died, but I assumed it was because of Weasley’s punishment.  The punishment still didn’t fit the crime in my eyes, as he was not rotting in a cell in Azkaban, but it was pretty bad.  McGonagall had gone absolutely ballistic on the Weasel, stripping him of his prefect title and giving him detention every day for the rest of the year.  By my calculations that was only a fraction of what he deserved.  He was also kicked off the Quidditch team, which turned any Gryffindor sympathizers against him immediately.  Potter and Hermione were furious with him as well, and it was a source of constant entertainment for me just how miserable the stupid git looked.  I had preserved the memory for Xander to watch when he was better, but he was still delighted when I told him what had befallen the Weasel.

But the last punishment…oh it had been delicious.  Who knew McGonagall could be so devious?  Most parents get a letter home when their child misbehaves.  An owl or two to express the severity of their misbehavior.  But not this time.  Headmistress McGonagall (who I had to grudgingly admit was slowly gaining my respect), had gone to the Burrow in person to inform Molly Weasley of what her son had done.

_It was a rather dreary day.  The ceiling of the Great Hall had been clouded and grey, and the room was quietly chatting as was often customary at breakfast.  Weasley had been on edge for days waiting for the Howler from his mother.  When it didn’t come, he relaxed a bit, thinking that his doom had waited another day.  I still remembered the one that he had gotten second year; it had fueled jokes in the Slytherin common room well through to the next year.  And this…this was ten times better._

_“Where is he?!”  A loud voice boomed through the Great Hall.  The doors blasted open as a strong current of wandless non-verbal magic erupted from the squat red-headed woman in the threshold.  I had never really seen Molly Weasley up close until then, but she was positively radiating magical energy.  The Weasel was already pale, but it looked as if all the blood in his body had drained away as he watched his mother approach.  He looked desperately to Harry and then Hermione, who refused to offer him any aid.  The Great Hall had gone absolutely silent as they waited for Weasley’s utter annihilation at the hands of his mother._

_“Hey mum.”  He croaked out, his hands shaking as he went to wave.  She silenced him quickly with a gesture of her hand and those who had been around him made room._

_“Don’t. You. Dare.”  She warned, a fire in her gaze that bordered on insane.  Grabbing his ear, she pulled him out of his seat so he now stood in the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.  “Ronald Bilius Weasley you are in so much trouble that you will wish they had sent you to Azkaban.”  The bite in her tone surprised me, and I hazarded a glance at Draco who was smiling like he had just been given the newest fastest broom in the world.  My misery over being ignored by Hermione almost lifted as I watched the ginger oaf get his comeuppance._

_He appeared to be trying to say something, straining against the silencing charm she had placed on him, but she didn’t relent._

_“You have used dark magic against a child…A CHILD.  I did not raise you to be so thick-headed and utterly disappointing.  He could very well have died.  DIED.  You would be a murderer.  You’re lucky that I left my wand with Professor McGonagall or I would be a murderer in this moment.  The Headmistress has informed me that you have detention for the rest of the year.”  Her eyebrow quirked up just a bit, like an animal playing with its food before it strikes._

_“You may think that you only have to survive until June 25.  You.  Are.  Wrong.”  The fury in her words nearly sent a chill down my spine, and I wondered if Weasley had soiled himself.  “You will not be seeing the light of day for a long time.  It’s a good thing you will be here for the next six months as it gives me plenty of time to think up just how to get it through that thick skull of yours how poor an idea you’d had.  Don’t get any ideas about coming home for holidays.”  Smiling brightly at him, he swallowed heavily.  “Nod if you understand me.”  She commanded, and he flinched back before nodding his head curtly.  Turning abruptly to her right, she smiled in a much less threatening way to Harry, Hermione and Ginny who sat there without a shred of compassion for Ron in their expressions._

_“I’m so sorry to have disturbed your meal dears.  Just have to give my idiot son a good talking to.  Hope classes and Quidditch are going well, oh and Hermione, you’re more than welcome at the holidays.  Ronald will be staying here, so we’ll have an extra seat.”  They chatted quietly with her for a few more moments before glaring at her son once more and removing the silencing charm she had placed on him._

_Glancing up to where McGonagall sat at the head table, Molly cleared her throat and smoothed her dress.  “Sorry for the disturbance.  You have my permission to do with this boy as you please.  I believe that he might learn, but it will take a less than delicate touch.”  Without another word, Molly Weasley left the Great Hall, leaving behind a void of silence, shock, and dread.  A parent had never been invited to Hogwarts like that before, but then again Potter didn’t have any parents to call when he had nearly killed Draco; and that had been an accident._

The memory of Weasley being eviscerated by his mother in public drove me for the next few days until Xander brilliantly organized my reconciliation with Hermione.  Now I felt on top of the world.  The most intelligent and beautiful witch in the world by my side and Weasley preparing for a lifetime of reconciliation; Xander was out of the hospital…everything was shaping up.  For once in my life, everything was perfect.

I waited, as I was trained to do, for the other shoe to drop.  For something, anything to ruin the bliss of my new relationship.  Every time that I held her hand or heard her dorky laughter, my heart ached as I counted the moments until she would come to her senses.  Weeks passed and amazingly the beautiful witch stayed by my side.  As N.E.W.T.s grew closer, Xander, Hermione and I were joined in the library by nearly a dozen panicked seventh and eighth years who hoped that we would help them study.

January moved into February before long, and life began to revolve more and more around the upcoming exams.  Hermione had given in and just started a tutoring session three days a week in the library, and she had batted her bright eyes at me to get me to agree to help.  Potter and the Weaselette joined after a few sessions, and I was amazed to find that Potter and I got along rather well.

It had been the most surprising development, until Draco and Blaise joined us.  Hermione had convinced (blackmailed) Blaise into helping with the sessions as well once their crowd began to grow.  Draco had begrudgingly joined after deciding that studying in the library was a better use of his time than sitting in the common room with all the younger students.

I was in the middle of explaining Golpolatt’s Third Law to some Ravenclaw seventh year when Draco caught my eye.  His annoyingly intense silvery gaze made focusing on potions nearly impossible.  “What?  What do you want you prat?”  The girl I had been helping jumped at my angry outburst and mumbled her excuses to leave.

“I wouldn’t say I’m being a prat at this current moment.”  Draco snidely commented, moving his chair closer to mine so as not to be overheard.  “Right in this moment, I’m the hero.”  Looking smug at his declaration, I barely managed to conceal my eye roll.  Ever since he had started dating Astoria Greengrass, he had slowly been getting back to his usual poncy self.  Not that I wasn’t thrilled to have my friend back to how he was before all the war and trauma, but he really was such a prick.

“And what have you saved me from, oh gracious hero?”  I asked, sarcasm and annoyance dripping from my voice like venom off a snake’s fangs.  My patience had been worn incredibly thin after several hours of tutoring idiots, and my tolerance level for Malfoy’s antics was at an all time low.

“It’s the second week of February Theodore.”  He spoke, leaning back in his chair as he smirked at me.  If I wasn’t surrounded by at least four prefects and both the head boy and girl, I might have hexed the bastard.

“Yes, and?”  I pinched the bridge of my nose, sending brief prayers to Merlin, Circe, Morgana…anyone I could think of to remove this annoyance from my presence as I could feel a headache coming along.

“Theodore…it’s the second week…of February.”  I shot my eyes to his to make him fiercely aware that I had no more patience for him.

“Yes I get that it’s the bloody second week of February Malfoy.  Now make your point or get your pointed nose out of my face.”  Finally snapping, I scowled at the blond git as he held his hands up in a defensive pose.

“There is a certain holiday that tends to occur around this time every year.  Perhaps you’re familiar with it.  After all, it is only Thursday.”  I glared at him for a moment before counting the date in my head.  Today was a Monday and it was the 11th, so what important holiday was February 14th?

“Oh…oh no…shite.”  The realization dawned on me, and I was sure that Malfoy was enjoying the look of horror that crossed my features.  I was the worst boyfriend in the world.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner you pompous…ferret!”  All jovialness to Draco’s expression dropped off suddenly as his expression darkened.  I smirked slightly at his discomfort, glad to see I had managed to hit a nerve.

“You’ve been hanging around Granger far too much.”  He warned, shifting his equilibrium to lean in close to me again.  Draco may be an intimidating sod when he wanted to be, but he had never been able to intimidate me.

“Of course, I have!  She’s my bloody girlfriend!”  Gritting through my teeth, I managed to not scream at my roommate.  “Not for much longer if I don’t figure out something to do for Valentine’s Day.  I can’t believe I bloody well forgot.  Stupid N.E.W.T.s and stupid tutoring.”

Xander, seemingly having just wandered down after the first-year charm class ended to join in the studying, approached the two older Slytherins with a newly acquired confidant swagger.  “Mr. Draco.  Mr. Theo.”  He greeted politely before inviting himself to pull up a chair next to them.  I couldn’t decide if I was prouder that he had grown so much since I’d first met him, or furious that he had the audacity to invite himself to sit with us.

“Hello little snake.  Charms all done then?”  Draco asked, clearly enjoying prolonging my suffering.

“Yes.  Today we worked on nox.  Can’t say it was the most useful class, Ms. Hermione taught me nox months ago.”  Turning his attention towards me, he took in my miserable looking expression and sighed.  “You look awful.  What’s got your wand in a knot?”  Malfoy’s sniggering was barely audible, but I caught it nonetheless, utilizing the non-verbal magic we’d been practicing in Defense to cast a wordless charm to force Draco’s chair he had been leaning in backwards.  The Slytherin fell to the ground in a most undignified manner, which although petty, did make me feel a bit better.

“Alright you gits, I’ve been politely trying to ignore whatever lover’s quarrel is going on over here for long enough.  Nott, don’t pretend you didn’t just hex Draco’s chair.  Malfoy stop…well I’m not sure what you were doing but it was probably just as stupid.”  Blaise approached them in all of his head boy glory, and I caught sight of Hermione out of the corner of my eye as he did so.  She was laughing gently as she helped the Weaselette practice her transfiguration.

Remembering the source of my misery, I shot another half-hearted glare at Draco.  “Sorry Blaise, this prick just informed me that I have failed to prepare for the upcoming holiday.” 

“Didn’t plan anything for Valentine’s Day?”  Blaise asked, his eyebrow shooting up in curiosity.  He probably had any choice from a handful of witches basically shoving their knickers at him based on the stories Hermione had told him about their shared dorm.

“Didn’t even realize it was bloody Valentine’s Day on Thursday until this smarmy git informed me a few minutes ago.”  Xander gaped at me, and I knew that he was likely just as confused as Blaise.  I was not normally forgetful, and especially not with something that concerned my witch.

“What are you going to do Mr. Theo?”  Xander asked innocently, chewing lightly on the end of the quill he had taken out to use for his homework.  He had a horrible habit of chewing on quills, leaving smudges of ink against his lips.

“I’ve no idea.”  I admitted, placing my head in my hands.  “All the proper shops will be sold out and I don’t imagine that Hermione would be too enthused with a trip to Madam Puddifoot’s.  She’s just not like any girl I’ve ever encountered.  The only Valentine’s Day I ever celebrated was that time Pansy bullied me and Daphne into going on a double date with you fourth year.”  I pointed accusingly at Draco before scowling at the memory of Pansy’s shrill tone when Draco had refused to buy her this obnoxious looking chocolate box.

“Merlin that was a disaster.  If I hadn’t lost my virginity in a dodgy broom closet later that day I might have had to obliviate the memory.”  Glaring at Draco, I briefly flicked my gaze over to Xander before returning them to Malfoy accusingly.  Sure, he may have gotten his fair share of shagging done in Hogwarts, but I did not want Xander getting any ideas.  “Right.  Horribly decision the whole thing.  Wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Nice.”  Blaise groaned, as Malfoy shrugged off his pitiful attempt at not being an awful role model.  “I mean you’re dating the bint.  Shouldn’t you know enough about what she likes to pull something romantic out of your arse?”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to be romantic.”  I moaned, deciding that I might as well not try to lie to them or myself.  My father was a bastard and my mother died when I was young.  I’d long had my fantasies of being a romantic beaten out of my head.

“Oh bullshit Nott.  You are a softy under all that trauma you insist on hauling around.”  I snapped my head to look at Malfoy.  “What?  Its true.  You’re just a little sappy romantic underneath all of that contempt, anger, and protective shelling.”  I had my hand gripped so tight around my wand that my knuckles were turning white.  Just before I could raise my arm to hex him, all the authorities in the world be damned, I felt a small hand on the crook of my arm.

“Mr. Theo…I might have an idea.”  Something about the way the boy smiled broke me out of my murderous rage, although I made a note that Malfoy needed a good hexing later.  Astoria wouldn’t be too upset as long as I avoided his face.

“Alright Xander, what did you have in mind?”


	8. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and his merry band of snakes have prepared the perfect Valentine's Day for Hermione Granger, but as always, it does not go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! My writer's block is still holding firm, but it is getting a little easier to focus. I'm back at work now which has helped me immensely in getting back on schedule. Hopefully I'll be back to once a week chapters within the next few weeks. Thank you as always for reading and for all the extremely kind words I have received!

I was not panicking.  Or certainly that was what I was telling myself as I dressed in the morning on February the 14th.  I had been working with Draco and Xander for the past three days to create a last-minute romantic date for my witch.  Xander, being the savior of the day, had a rather brilliant idea for a base, and I had a rather brilliant idea of my own in how to make it amazing for Hermione.

Stretching out my back before I tucked in my crisp white button-down shirt.  Fastening my tie and pulling on my warm black jumper and smoothing out the hem before dawning my robes.  Using my fingers to push my hair back, I sighed into the mirror.  The exhaustion of the N.E.W.T revision schedule I’d been keeping as well as this clandestine setting up of the perfect holiday for my girlfriend had become evident on my face.

Waving my wand lazily, the dark circles under my eyes began to vanish; not that they were gone now, but rather that they were now under a glamour to hide them.  Hermione had been showing more concern for me than herself these days, and I knew she would insist I take off tutoring if she could tell how exhausted I was.

Draco, who had much too cheery a disposition as he prepared for his day with Astoria, seemed even more bastardy than normal.

“Alright there Nott?  No need to worry about your failings as a boyfriend.  Just remember that you owe me a debt for keeping you in the good graces of your witch.”  His smug smirk resulted in a deep scowl of my own, and I grabbed a pillow off my bed to toss at his perfectly styled head.

“I am in your debt Malfoy.  After all, your insufferable attitude and overall prat-ness makes me look like a much better alternative.”  I was prepared for his parry as I caught the pillow that I had thrown at him just a moment before.  Draco had always been one of my closest friends, and now that I found myself unburdened by expectations and my father, we had grown ever closer.

“What are you up to with Astoria today?  I know you don’t have any afternoon classes, but she must.”  Draco just shook his head, fixing his hair from where my pillow assault had knocked some of the blonde fringe loose.

“Apparently the defense professor was recently married over the winter hols and has cancelled classes today to spend it with her wife.”  Shrugging at this new information, I found myself bitterly wishing that Vector would have a spouse to celebrate the holiday with.  Not that I don’t love arithmancy (seeing as it is one of my favorite subjects) but it would have been helpful to have the extra time today.

Glancing at the clock on the wall next to me, I groaned and grabbed my rucksack.  “Breakfast Malfoy?  Or are you going to be gourging yourself on young Miss Greengrass’s face again?”

Sneering at me with his favorite smug expression, he nodded, and we quickly departed from our dorm.  It was just the two of us in there, seeing as so many Slytherins had either chosen not to come back or refused to room with Malfoy.  I’d never admit it to him, but I was worried about his mental state before his new relationship.  Astoria has been a godsend though, breaking him out of his bouts of self-pity and loathing.  As much as I teased him, I was truly happy for him to have found something good in his life.

The Great Hall was outfitted with decorations for the holiday, and I found myself scowling as an animated Cupid figure attempted to shoot me with its arrow.  Draco seemed equally as enthused about the flying fiends as I was, and only the threat that if he hexed them, he’d miss his Valentine’s date with Astoria kept him from destroying the lot.

Hermione, looking beautiful as always, sat with Potter and the Weasleys.  The Weasel looked miserable as he sat at breakfast, and I triumphed at his continued punishment.  Both Potter and Hermione were still barely speaking to him, and his detention ended up that he had to held Hagrid shovel the dung from the various creatures he kept.  Knowing that he was suffering for his actions started off my morning on a bright note.  At the first screech of an owl, my blood ran cold as anxiety filled my body.  The plan had begun.

Watching my witches’s expression carefully, I smiled as she crinkled her nose.  She must’ve been arguing with Potter about something because she only did that when she was feeling particularly frustrated.  Owls flew in from the windows in the right corner of the ceiling, and I felt my heart beat faster as I waited for my familiar tawny owl to fly in.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Persephone flew in.

Flying lower until she was directly above the Gryffindor table, clutching a single red rose in her talon, I stopped breathing as I waited for her to drop the flower on the table.  Hermione didn’t seem to notice Persephone until she couldn’t be ignored.  Potter seemed to point out that the flower was for Hermione, and she grasped the rose.  Her face lit up as she looked at it, and I let out the breath I had been holding in.  It was an assumption that she would like roses, but they really were classic.

Searching briefly in my direction, her honey eyes found mine, and the air seemed to get lighter and the noise around me faded.  “Thank you.”  She mouthed, bringing the rose up to her nose to take in the scent.  What she smelled must’ve surprised her because she gasped.  I smirked at her when her eyes returned to mine and winked.  Turning away, I gave Xander a thumbs up before continuing with my porridge.

“What was that about?  Why was she so surprised?”  Draco asked, sipping at his tea carefully as he watched his own owl deliver a bouquet of roses to Astoria.  Their relationship was so different from mine…I knew Hermione wouldn’t want such a flashy gesture.  She was a simple witch, and she was mine.

“I placed some amortentia on the tips of the petals.  It doesn’t smell like a rose.  For her, it will smell like…”  I paused, feeling heat pool around my ears and crawling up my neck.  “Urm…well I’d rather hoped it would smell like me.”

Malfoy, ever the supportive friend, faux gagged at my declaration.  “So would your amortentia smell like her?”  He asked, and my eyes narrowed.  It was a loaded question.

“Not very subtle Draco.  Losing our touch are we?”  I teased, and before he could bite back a response, a very disgruntled looking Blaise arrived.

“You owe me 100 favors Nott.”  His cold voice spat.  Beaming at him, I just chuckled.

“Sure thing Zabini.  Just tell me when to repay.”  Clapping my hand on his back, he glared at me like he wanted to hex me into next week.  I held my hands up in a defensive surrender, but that did little to quell his anger.

“Oh Merlin.  I don’t need an answer.  If you’re willing to owe favors to Zabini then you must be in love with the bint.”  Malfoy popped a piece of croissant into his mouth, having returned to his smug expression.  That boy could not be deterred for long.

Looking over to where Hermione was still smiling brightly while Potter and the Weaselette took turns smelling the rose, I couldn’t help the pull of my lips into a content smile.  “Yeah…yeah I must be.”

The rest of breakfast passed quickly, as Draco buggered off somewhere with Astoria and Blaise whined about having to tutor on his own that evening.  Xander, who was still grossed out by girls and the idea of dating, had agreed to helping me with my plans.  Giving him a quick nod, the young snake took off to begin preparations for phase three.  Phase one was completed, so now on to phase 2.

Bidding Blaise goodbye (which he was rather annoyed about due to the fact that no one was left to talk to), I made my way over to the lions’ table.  “Good morning.”  I greeted, locking my eyes onto Hermione.  The flush of her cheeks was gratifying, and the tender way she clutched the rose showed that it had been the perfect idea.  I took a moment to nod my greetings to Potter and the Weaselette before shooting a hateful glare at the Weasel.  He was a bastard and I would never forgive him.

“Good morning.”  She echoed back, placing a quick, chaste kiss on my lips.  I slid down into the space beside her that Longbottom had abandoned to go see his Hufflepuff girlfriend and grabbed the rose.  I actually was rather curious what my amortentia would smell like.  Taking in a deep breath, I focused my mind on identifying the scents.

It smelled like my mother’s strawberry pastries, like saltwater…neither of those were new, but the other scent…it was Hermione’s perfume.  It was fruity, but not overpowering, and mixed with the other things, smelt like heaven.

“This is wonderful.”  She spoke, placing her hand over mine where it held the rose.  I smiled at him warmly and responded, “I’m glad you liked it.”

“More than that…”  Ginny muttered under her breath.  I pretended not to hear the comment but filed that information away for later. 

“That was phase 1, of three phases.  Phase 2 is actually another gift.”  Her mouth opened as if to protest, but I just shook my head.  “Before you complain, this gift cost me nothing…well not yet anyway.”  I chuckled at my own joke before continuing.  “Blaisey-boy is going to cover tutoring tonight so we can have the evening to ourselves for phase three.”

I could see the gears turn in her mind as she processed this.  I had considered all of her objections and prepared arguments against each one, but to my immense surprise, she just nodded her head.  “Okay.  I’ll have to be sure to thank Blaise.  Although he definitely owes me more than this for putting up with his philandering in our dorm.  Merlin knows what would happen if I reported him to McGonagall.”  Shocked both by her agreement and her use of the word philandering, I gaped at her.  She was truly amazing, my witch.

“You haven’t reported him?  Why?  Aren’t you meant to be head girl?  Setting an example and all that rot?”  Potter asked, clearly as perplexed by this uncharacteristic display from the curly-haired witch as I was.

“Well I could do, but I felt it might be…to my benefit to keep this information to myself.  When in Rome you know?”  She continued eating her grapefruit like her statement was perfectly normal.  The way she smirked at me made me think that I might make a Slytherin out of her yet.  She had a manipulative and mean side.

Sensing my shock, she laughed at what must have been a rather silly expression.  “I know that everyone expects that I should be too worried about N.E.W.T.s to take a night off, but Ginny was just telling me the other day that sometimes you just have to put yourself first.  I fought in a bloody war…I deserve a romantic evening with my boyfriend.  And besides, Blaisey-boy owes me.”  The novelty of her referring to me as her boyfriend still hit me right in the chest, and I may have even swooned a little bit.  She was simply perfect; not to say that she didn’t have flaws, but rather that every flaw she had only made me love her more.

Oh Merlin I love her.

“Theo?  Earth to Theodore.”  Hermione’s voice broke me out of my realization, and I steeled my expression as I caught the Weaselette staring at me oddly.  Looney Lovegood came by then, and I breathed a sigh of relief to be released from the ginger witch’s fierce blue eyes.

“Good morning Gryffindors…Theodore.”  She had been haunting me like a fay since the train.  I was certain she knew more than she let on, but every time I tried to approach her, she vanished.

“Morning Luna.”  Harry and Hermione greeted.  Weasel raised his head in acknowledgement before returning to his avoidance of any human beings’ gaze.  Ginny pushed into Harry to signal that he should move down to allow the Ravenclaw to sit, and smiled up at the blonde creature.  I vaguely remembered that they were very close friends from last year and shrugged off the way the blonde girl was staring at me.

“What?”  I finally snapped, after her unrelenting eyes kept their fixed position on me.  It was like she was seeing through me, into my soul, and I didn’t care for it at all.

“Oh nothing.  Your aura is different.  Its does that when...”  She glanced between me and Hermione and curved the corner of her lip into a small knowing smile.  “When people have large shifts.”

Could she know?  There was no way she could know I loved Hermione when I had only figured it out myself moments before.  But of course the witch knew.  She always knew.  She had known on the train that I was there.

“Shifts?”  Hermione asked the blonde skeptically, and I prayed to Merlin that she would continue to be just as vague and disconcerting as always.  I didn’t want someone else telling Hermione that I love her, not before I even got the chance.

“You are surrounded by wrackspurts Ron.  Although that tends to happen when you try to murder someone.  Draco used to be covered with them.”  I gaped at the woman, both at her successful avoidance of Hermione’s question and the statement which was probably the worst thing any human person could’ve said to the Weasel.

The Weasel looked up at her slowly, his normally red, freckled face looking distinctly green.  He rose suddenly and ran from the Great Hall, thankfully managing to get past the doors before he got sick all over the floor.

Undeterred by Weasley’s swift exit, Luna began to describe some sort of magical creature her father was hunting.  I decided that was the perfect time to leave, after all I did need to stop by the location to check in with Xander.

“Phase three takes place after Arithmancy, so I’ll see you then.”  Grabbing her hand, I kissed her knuckles with a light bow and made my way towards the Slytherin table.

“Ready for class?”  I asked Blaise, ignoring the scathing look he was sending my way.  He’d likely spent the entire time I was with the lions pouting and I simply didn’t care for his dramatics.

“Oh so now you care about me?  You know, some best friend you are…”  I cut him off, sending a satisfied smirk his way.

“Hermione said you owed her more than covering tutoring.  Something about philandering and not telling McGonagall.”  All sense of faux distress left Blaise’s face, and his dark features turned downward as he considered this.

“Turning her into quite the little Slytherin aren’t you.”  I laughed at Blaise’s blatant distress and began to walk in the direction of the doors.  It wasn’t until we reached the edge of the lake that Blaise noticed we were not in fact on our way to Herbology.  There were still ten minutes left before class began, and I was eager to see how my protégé was doing with the preparations.

Blaise’s eyes widened when he noticed Xander, and they continued to take in the scene around him.  Frowning slightly, he turned more fully to face me, his deep brown eyes searching mine.

“I’ve been your best friend since we were kids.”  He began.  His Italian accent catching slightly as it tended to do when he wasn’t focused.  It had taken years for him to get comfortable enough with his fake English accent to fully hide the Italian one.  “You…she’s it, isn’t she.”  Looking at me now as if I was a creature to be pitied, his eyes held more despair than I’d ever seen from him.  It was rare that I gleaned anything meaningful from his eyes, and today I nearly turned away from the force of his emotion.

“I think she just might be.”  I admitted, although my voice sounded small and hollow, like a child admitting to a secret.  Despite everything, the part of me that was raised by my father fought against this idea.  I bit back the self-loathing and the voice of my father in my head and looked down.

“I’m happy for you Theo, I really am, but if…if this witch ever changes her mind, it will destroy you.  It will destroy you and I won’t be able to put you back together.”  Blaise turned from me too quickly for me to stop him, and I was left standing there with Xander staring on.  The uncertainty and discomfort he felt was clear in his face, but he didn’t move from his spot.

“Mr. Theo, Ms. Hermione won’t change her mind.  You’ll be okay.”  The forced optimism of his statement hit me right in the chest like a slight stunning charm, and I shoved the pain of this conversation to the back of my mind where I kept everything else that I didn’t want to think about.  I could only think about today, and today, I loved Hermione Granger.

* * *

 

By my calculations, classes for the rest of the day lasted about eighteen millenia each.  Potions had been dull as we’d spent the entire period making pepper-up potion for the hospital wing.  Herbology had been tedious as we collected and identified various magical roots and their uses.  By the time I arrived at Arithmancy, I was about ready to hex whoever annoyed me next.  Somehow though, the moment that Hermione’s face came into view, all of my anger melted away.

Arithmancy itself was actually interesting as we utilized a new method for calculation of the stars.  It was an incredibly tricky aspect of the subject and relied more heavily on astronomy and maths than divination.  Hermione had beamed at the new information, glad to be able to distance herself even further from Trelawney’s subject.  The topic got brought up more than once between us, and it was something we had agreed to disagree on.  Of course, my great-grandmother had been a seer, so I fully believed in the power of the subject when done skillfully.

Class continued for about an hour before finishing up early.  Vector, sensing the anxiety of his students, many of whom had dinner reservations in Hogsmeade, had mercy on us and let us out early.  I think I might have broken some record for packing my rucksack the fastest of any human alive because I had packed my things and crossed the room not thirty seconds after he had dismissed us.

“Ready?”  I asked my witch anxiously as I watched her pack up her own things.  I noticed that her favourite quill seemed to be chewed and distorted and made a note to order her some new ones.

“I still feel a bit strange since I’ve been revising in all my spare time since the winter hols, but I am ready to take a bit of time for us.”  The way her voice moved on the us, with such a warm tone, made my heart jump.  I was tempted to snog her properly right there, but there were plans to follow.  Pulling out my wand from my inner robe pocket, I grabbed her hand.

“I want it to be a surprise if that’s alright.”  It was a risk, to ask her if I could blindfold her, but I hoped she trusted me enough to allow it.  After a moment of shifting her honey eyes between my wand and where my hand held hers, she nodded tightly.  Doing my best to cast it non-verbally, a vapor of black extended from my wand, twisting and shaping itself until it formed into a strip of black fabric which wrapped itself around her.  Pulling itself tight, I could tell from the tension in her shoulders that she couldn’t see.

Apparition would have been faster, but seeing as that was impossible within school grounds, I settled for having to walk her to the lake.  Sheepishly, as we reached the first set of stairs in the grand staircase, I realized that it would be much easier if she could do this bit on her own.  “Urm…I’ll redo the enchantment once there’s no stairs involved.  Last thing I need is to have you ending up in hospital.”  As I chuckled in embarrassment, she just laughed along and cast a non-verbal and wand-less finite.

“Wand-less?”  I amazed, watching as the black fabric dissipated once again into black smoke before disappearing into the air around us.

Blushing, she looked away from me.  “I’ve been practicing.  We got disarmed during the war and I…I just never want to be defenseless again.  Its not as strong, but I can do it if I focus enough.”  That was true enough.  Most people didn’t bother with wandless magic because it was so hard to concentrate the flow of your magic without a wand.  It was incredibly rare, and for her to have taught herself.  Just as soon as my awe of her skill took hold, I realized why she had needed to learn it in the first place.  The bloody war.  She didn’t deserve to live her life on the run…to be hunted, and yet here she was, dating the son of one of the men who’d tried to deny her the right to exist.

“I’m sorry Hermione.”  I spoke, my voice low and soft as I stopped in place.  We were on the stair between the third and second floors, and I was stuck in place like I was sinking into the steps below my feet.

“Its not your fault Theo.  You didn’t hurt me.”  Her assurances fell on deaf ears.  I could feel her small hand in mine, and I could sense the warmth of her fingers as they rubbed circles on the back of my hand, but I couldn’t tear my mind away from the war.  I was a coward…I was a coward and she was the bravest woman I’ve ever known and she still chose me.  Turning abruptly to face her fully, I captured her lips with my own.  “I love you Hermione.”  It wasn’t how I’d intended to tell her, or when, but I felt a strong compulsion to let her know.  She was good and light and wonderful and brave, and she was with me anyway.

Her cheeks enflamed as my words echoed in the nearly empty stairwell.  The portraits around us fixed their bored gazes on us as if something interesting was happening for the first time in years.  I searched in her face for any reaction beyond the initial shock, for any confirmation that she loved me too.

“Theo…I…” 


	9. Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo has told Hermione Granger that he loves her. How will the witch react to his unexpected declaration?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow a new chapter within three weeks! I'm getting over my bout of writers block and am looking forward to this story winding down. I'm not sure how much longer this story will be going on, but I predict it'll be over within ten chapters. Thank you as always for your kind words and kudos, they mean the world to me!

It’s rare to watch yourself fuck up your own life, but I, Theodore Nott, had just that privilege not once, but twice.  The first time…well I never thought I’d ever get another chance with this brilliant witch.  I was wrong, so mercifully wrong, and now I’ve gotten round to scaring the witch again.

Hermione Granger was the single most spectacular being I had ever encountered.  She wasn’t beautiful by shallow standards, but she was absolutely stunning to me.  Her mind, her heart, and her spirit were unparalleled in their fantasism.  She was the stuff of dreams – my dreams at least.  Now as I watched all the blood in her body rush to her cheeks in a near empty stairwell in Hogwarts, I was determined to memorize every nook and cranny of her appearance out of fear that I would never be allowed to see her like this again.

I loved her.  I loved her and the realization of it hit me like the Hogwart’s Express.

“Theo…I…”  Her mouth hung slightly open, and I counted the seconds.  One…two…three…waiting for the knife to fall; waiting for the words that would end my hopes and steal my dream.  Suddenly, like a wave crashing on the shore, I had to look away.  It was like looking at the sun and if I looked for even one more second, I would have been blinded.  Fixing my gaze on the stone steps below my feet, my knuckles strained at how tightly I was holding the bannister.

“Theo…I…I love you too.”  My head snapped up at her words so fast that for a moment my sight flickered like static.

“You…you do?”  There was a hopefulness in my voice that even I was surprised at.  If that was true (and Merlin did I want it to be true) I was the luckiest bastard in the entire world.  We were so different.  Slytherin, Gryffindor.  Hero, coward.  Light, dark.  There was nothing about us that should have worked, but merlin did I love her.  Cupping my hands near my mouth, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “HERMIONE GRANGER LOVES ME.”  It was the greatest victory I’d ever won; better even than when I got to put my abusive bastard of a father in the ground.  This was so much more fulfilling than hate…this was pure love (something that until this moment, I had never really known).

Wordlessly, she shook her head, clearly exasperated by my antics and I drank in the way her eyes swam.  If they were a pool of honey, I would have gladly jumped in and drowned.  The portraits that hung around the landing we were closest to began to murmur then…the most loud of which was Sir Cadogen who was accosting me to ‘Get on with it and kiss the fair maiden, lest she change her mind.’

Moving forward one step, I wrapped my arm tenderly around her waist.  She loved me…she really loved me.  I loved her and she loved me.  All of the anxiety I had been feeling turned quickly into overwhelming happiness, and I was snogging her like my life depended on it.  This kiss was not entirely different from many others we’d shared, but she tasted better.  She tasted like every happy Christmas and birthday wrapped into one.  I realized with a start when we pulled apart just exactly what I was tasting…the future, my future.

When I was younger, I had been convinced that I would not make it to see 17, but now, with Hermione Granger in all her frizzy-haired glory in my arms, I wanted to live forever.

Her blushed cheeks were beautiful as she looked at me with the dreamy look she retained for post-snogging.  I stared at her for another moment before remembering suddenly what we had been doing.  “Oh…the pi…surprise.  Xander will have my head if we’re late.”

“Scared of the little snake are we Theodore?”  Hermione teased, stepping down from the higher step to join me where I was.  I nearly laughed at how much shorter she was now.  I stood over nearly a head taller than her. 

“Not any little snake.  With Malfoy and myself as mentors, that kid will be a proper nightmare by graduation.  Makes me so proud.”  I drew my hand to my face to wipe away a faux tear, and she rolled her delicious honey eyes at me.  Offering her my hand, she took it with a smile and descended the stairs.  When we reached the bottom landing, I smiled at her before flicking my wand, returning the black blindfold to where it had been before she loved me.

Its amazing how time changes when you do.  For example, my whole life was calculated from before and after my mother died.  But now…now there was a time before Hermione Granger loved me and everything else.

Leading her to the grounds from the stairs, I was high from our kiss.  It was like every cell in my body was vibrating with excitement.  My normally stoic expression (the benefit of having been trained in the Slytherin school of being a mysterious bastard) was shattered by a bright smile.  As many times as I tried to hide it, I found it was impossible.  Several students that we passed on our way out regarded me as if I was some sort of madman, but I didn’t care.

The spot Xander and I had picked at the Black Lake was perfect, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye as we approached.  His face was contorted into a scowl as he wordlessly expressed his annoyance at my tardiness, and I chuckled quietly.  He was spending much too much time with Malfoy.  I shot him a quick sign to say everything was good and he seemed to understand that I would tell him all about it later; after all, it was due to this wonderful little snake that I had the opportunity to love her in the first place.

Twinkling lights lit up a passageway towards where a red gingham blanket had been laid.  Butterbeers and dinner (which Xander and I had bribed the house elves to provide) sat under a stasis nearby.  Standing behind Hermione, I wrapped my arms around her middle and placed a kiss on her cheek.  Pulling out my wand, I cast a finite on the blindfold.

Hermione was certainly a bright witch but watching her absorb and process information was like watching a bird take flight.  Her eyes grew wide before moving around slowly as if scanning the scene.  I had studied for hours with Xander the night before perfecting her bluebell flames, which now decorated the lake scene in dozens of jars.  The soft blue light highlighting her features and making her joy seem even better.

“Bluebell?  But you said you’re rubbish at that spell.”  She walked over to where the row of blue lights edged against the lake’s shore and ran her hand across the tip of the flames.  As if entranced, she watched the flames lick and dance in the reflection of the jar and the water.

“I was…I am.  Xander and I filled all these bleeding jars yesterday.  Little bugger is much handier at charms than me and took to it almost immediately.  But then again, that isn’t so surprising considering who his charms tutor is.”  Offering her my hand, I guided her down the path towards the blanket.  The stasis charm dissipated when we crossed the barrier, and condensation soon began dripping down the sides of the butterbeer mugs.  The dinner appeared to be a beef stew with hot rolls and salad, and it looked delicious.

“This is amazing Theo.  I must admit that I’ve never really understood Valentine’s Day, but its given me a wonderful excuse to just spend an evening with you.”  Hermione reached up on her tip toes and brushed her lips against mine for just a moment.  I smiled at her and bowed before plopping down on the blanket.  I probably could have taken time to land more gracefully, but Hermione’s light laughter at my physical comedy made it worth it.

She joined me, squealing slightly in surprise when she entered the area to discover the warming charm I had cast.  It was biting in early February in Scotland, and the warming charm seemed to have made robes optional.  As she shed her outer robes, leaving her in only her uniform, I did the same.  Pulling off my jumper, I also pulled off my tie, unbuttoning the first few buttons of my shirt.  I hated being in full uniform and routinely took off my tie before I even made it to the door of my dorm room.  There was something about the restriction of the fabric that made me feel cagey.

“You look comfy.”  She commented, casting a knowing look at me with a smirk.  Several times she had to catch me trying to pull my tie off while studying in the library.  It was especially bad when the younger students seemed intent on asking me student or mundane questions.

“You could be comfier.”  I hinted, making sure to pepper in an air of innocence.  She glared at me half-heartedly, but to my surprise removed her own jumper and tie.  Hermione Granger, in all my years at Hogwarts, had never worn her uniform in anything other than immaculate dress.  There was something incredibly sexy about the witch, and my first instinct was to bury myself in her hair and run my hands along her body.

Swallowing my instinct and desire, I picked up the cool metal of the butterbeer steins and handed her one.  Nodding in appreciation, she brought the cool liquid up to her lips and took a tentative sip.  The cool liquid felt good against my own lips as I let the amber liquid drain down my throat.  I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was, and the first sip was followed quickly by a big gulp.

“Well its best not to let the food get cold now that we’ve cancelled the stasis.”  Holding out a spoon to her, she grabbed it and began to eat the stew.  I had asked the elves to make whatever was Hermione’s favorite, so I wasn’t surprised to see her devouring it.  Beef stew was also one of my favorite dishes, and so we ate in a companionable silence.

When both our bowls were empty and our skeins were refilled with water, she broke the silence.  “Did you ever imagine we’d be here?”  It was not an undeserved question, but it was surprising.  Hermione was always hesitant to bring up how wrong we were for each other.

“Quite honestly no.  But I also imagined my father murdering me or trading my life away to a madman.  I never planned to live past 17.”  The intensity of her gaze caught me unawares, and I felt a searing embarrassment for my confession.  This was supposed to be a happy day with my love, and here I was talking about my trauma.

“Don’t do that.”  She critiqued, and I bit my lip.

“Do what?”  I asked, confused about what behavior she wanted me to stop.

“Don't hide from me.  You do that sometimes, when I get too close to the real you.  You told me…when you called me that foul name, you told me that no one has ever seen you.”  Grabbing my hand, I was nearly burned by the heat of her touch.  “Let me try.  Let me see you Theo.”

Her eyes were so genuine and her smile so warm, and I swallowed down the feeling I always had that I did not deserve her.  I didn’t, and it was likely that I never would.  My shoulders had subconsciously tightened as she spoke, and I didn’t realize until she placed her other small hand on them.  Applying a light pressure, I slowly released the tension and sank into her embrace. 

“I…I’ve never…I’ll try.  I promise.”  It was a genuine promise, not one that I was joking about or would use as a manipulation tool.  I rarely made promises, always afraid that I would not be able to keep them.

“I never thought we’d be here.  When I was on the run, after I obliviated my parents, I woke up every day prepared to die; prepared to sacrifice my life for Harry, for the order.”  Hermione bit her lip, looking at me like she was uncertain if she should proceed.  I gave her hand a quick squeeze and silently encouraged her to continue.  “Ron is one of my best friends.  No matter how much of an absolute knob he’s been the past year.”  I scowled as she mentioned the weasel; I couldn’t expect her to hate him, but I certainly could.

“I’m assuming you have a point in bringing him up.”  My body tightened as rage coursed through me.  Everytime someone mentioned his name, I just pictured Xander bleeding on the floor.

“Everyone expected me to end up with Ron, and until the battle, I think I kind of expected it too.  I never realized how wrong Ron was for me until I saw how right you were.”  She moved closer to me, shifting to rest her head on my chest as I reconfigured my arms to be supporting both my and her weight.

“You know, I had my own version of that in Daphne.  Every person in Slytherin expected us to get together.  Both pure-blood, both from old families…no one expected me to be maddeningly in love with a muggleborn.”  She settled more against me then, and I kissed her head lightly.

We sat like that for a moment or two of silent bliss before she turned against me.  Twisting her neck so she could look me in the eye, my heartbeat skipped as I took in her expression.  She was looking at me the way that I looked at her, like the sun rose and set because she told it to.

“I love you Theo.  I have never met someone who made me feel so…at peace.  I love you.”  Her lips found mine in the dim, soft blue light of the bluebell flames, and the world had never been more right.  I found salvation at the taste of Hermione Granger, and I was saved.

After what could have been hours of lazy warm kisses, we parted, with her pink cheeks warm against mine.  Laying down, I pulled her tight to me, leading her head to rest on my chest as we cuddled on the blanket.

“Look, there’s Draco.”  I pointed out, reaching my hand up towards the sky.  Hermione, who I seemed to have startled, shot upright and looked around.  I couldn’t help myself but to laugh at her confusion, which then resulted in her swatting at me.  My laughter caused me to nearly double over before I could finally draw in enough air to breathe out a surrender.

“I yield witch!  I meant the constellation.”  Her face deepened as she realized that I had been pointing at the stars.  Grumbling something about me being insufferable, we laid back down.

“I used to stargaze with my mum.”  The laughter from moments before left me swiftly as I remembered her plea to let her know me.  I never talked about my mother…not even with Blaise.

“Can you…can you tell me about her?”  Pain filled me for a moment, and I found myself holding my muggleborn witch tighter to myself.  My mother had been the only person, before Hermione, to love me.

“She was beautiful.  The most beautiful woman in the whole entire world to a nine-year-old Theodore.  Her name was Lyra.  She was a Rosier before marriage I think.  Never really knew my uncle.  Mother didn’t agree with the Death Eaters…with my father.”  Hermione seemed to understand how hard this was for me, because she was pressing her soothing circles into my arm with her thumb.  I took a deep breath before continuing.

“She was arranged to my father.  She never did discuss it much, but now that I’m older I suspect it was a sale of some sorts.  The Rosiers may be pure-blooded, but they had lost much of their family fortune by the 70s.  My mother was the price that my grandfather paid for his house to be wealthy again.”  Hermione’s presence comforted me, and I found that talking to her about all this made me feel better…lighter somehow.

“I can’t imagine.  But I’ve seen your father, your mother must have been exceptionally beautiful.”  It may have been a rather morbid joke, but I laughed, nonetheless.  It was a mirthless laugh of contempt, but a laugh regardless.

“She was.  When I was young, she would take me to the gardens outside the manor and play with me.  I remember one day…it was around this time of year.  I wanted it to snow so much.  I was screaming and crying because we’d just come from France and it had been snowing there.  She made it snow in the garden.  She made it snow for me, just for me.  I’ve always loved the snow because it reminds me of her.”  My eyes burned as I fought back the tears that were threatening to come.  I hadn’t spoken of my mother in so long.

“My dad used to build snowmen with me.  He was a very tall man and I was always determined to make a snowman that was taller than me.  It got increasingly harder as I grew, but every Christmas break, if it snowed, we’d wrap up in our layers and brave the cold.”  It may have been a strange bonding experience, mourning our parents together, but I felt so close to her.  We’d been on opposite sides, born to opposite families, and yet we both hurt the same.

“Next time…Next time it snows, we should build a snowman.”  I turned my body so that I was facing her, and she smiled at me.  The kind of smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes.  I knew she missed her parents.  It was worse, somehow, to have parents that were alive but didn’t know she existed.

She sat up then, searching through the dim blue light to find her wand.  When she finally caught sight of the vinewood handle poking out from underneath her discarded jumper, she pulled it towards her.  Standing, she walked away from the picnic blanket and towards a tree that bordered the shore of the lake.  The oak stood tall as Hermione’s slender frame approached it, and I watched her with curious eyes, propping myself on my elbows.  She looked magnificent as she drew her wand through the air.  Her voice didn’t carry enough for me to hear what she was saying, but I was floored when a cloud began forming over her.  As she finished her incantation, her brown eyes found mine, and the smile that had been half-hearted before was full and split her face.

I couldn’t understand just why exactly she was so proud of herself until slowly the cloud she’d formed turned darker and the first small white flakes began to fall.  This witch…my witch, had made it snow.  Flashbacks began to play in the recesses of my brain, and I remembered my mother.  My mother with her raven hair wrapped up in a warm woolen hat and a thick scarf chasing me through the hedges of the garden.  Her blue eyes were filled with warmth as she scooped me into her arms.  I had let her catch me…I always let her catch me.

But when I opened my eyes as I wandered mindlessly into the snow, it wasn’t crisp blue eyes that met mine.  They were brown and honey and warm, just as warm.  “You’ve made it snow.”

“I’ve made it snow.”  Hermione’s voice cut off as I hugged her tight, spinning her around me as the spell she’d charmed rained snowflakes down on us.  If there was one thing I knew in that moment, it was that my mother would have loved this witch.  Merlin knew I did.


	10. Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and Hermione are in the library studying when they realize it will be another late night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks! I will be ending this story soon and I can't thank you all enough for following me throughout this journey. Thank you for all the kudos, comments, and feedback and for reading my silly little fic.

It was around the beginning of March when I first began to suspect that there was something Hermione was hiding from me, but I couldn’t be sure.  For a Gryffindor, she held her secrets incredibly tightly – another consequence of the war I supposed.  The little hints began to drop; the way her smile didn’t quite reach her ears or the brief flicker of guilt whenever we kissed goodbye.  Something was wrong with my little witch, and I couldn’t figure it out.

Her curly hair was out for once, not constricted by the tight braids she normally wore.  Xander of course told me I was overthinking things.  That boy worshipped Hermione, and the idea that she had ever done anything wrong was counterintuitive to what he believed.  My Slytherin observation skills came in handy, and I found myself watching her for a duel purpose.  The secret must have been innocent, but monumental.  Warmth still permeated her touches, and her expressions of love never wavered, which allowed me to calculate that whatever the secret was that she was hiding it didn’t have to do with me or our relationship.

The next deduction I managed was when I noticed a furtive glance she shared with Potter at one of our study sessions.   So it was something to do with Potter.  There seemed to be a tension between the boy wonder and Hermione that hadn’t been there a few weeks before.  Now that information just left me to wonder what could possibly come between Hermione and her golden boy.

And then it hit me; like a rogue bludger to the stomach.  The Weasel.  He was the only thing that she would feel guilty about when looking at me.  Just thinking of that ginger twat made my blood boil.  I had planned on biding my time, waiting for her to come to me with her secrets, but then she sighed three times in a minute and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright that’s your third sigh, I won’t have any more.  What are you keeping from me?”  It was perhaps a sharper question than I had meant, but my patience had been worn exceedingly thin by the increasingly insane revisions Vector had us doing for arithmancy.  Runes and numbers danced behind my eyes when they were closed.  The stress was already overwhelming me, and I needed Hermione.  Not the Hermione keeping secrets and sighing, but the woman who was fiery and swotty and never knew when enough was enough.

“I’m not…what makes you think I’m keeping something from you?”  She was smart in her dodging of my question, forcing her large, warm brown eyes away from mine.  The parchment held in her hand served as a prop for her avoidance.

“Hermione, you knew I was a snake when you started dating me.  You can’t keep secrets from a snake.  I’ve already worked out its got something to do with the Weasel so you might as well tell me.”  I knew it was a bit underhanded, but I felt a headache coming on, and if I was going to fight with my girlfriend I’d rather bloody well get on with it.

She was quiet as she looked at me, a sure sign that I was in for a lecture at best and a screaming at at worst.  Hermione was like a storm in the way she dealt with her emotions, and right now I was in the eye.  Another moment passed, and the silence between us became more oppressive and uncomfortable between each passing second.

“Just tell me Hermione.  I will…”  I took in a deep breath, straightening my back.  It ached from being sat in the library chairs for too long.  “I will try to be open minded.  I know how much that rode…how much Weasley means to you.”  And then her eyes were on mine again, and I could see her resolve melting.  Mine went along with it as I fell into her gaze.  I loved this witch and I would love her even if it meant tolerating the Weasel’s existence.

“Its just…its Ron’s birthday next week and I know what he did was absolutely inexcusable and I am not in any way saying that he deserves your forgiveness or Xander’s but…” Her voice dropped off, and I reached out my hand towards hers.  Placing my palm over top, I rubbed it lightly with my thumb.  “But he fought a war with you and you can’t forget that.”

I had been waiting for this inevitable discussion since the Weasel had started getting the cold shoulder.  It was what he deserved, but Hermione was good and kind and she had always had a soft spot for broken things.

The shock was evident on her face as I responded, and I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips.  It was always pleasurable…surprising her.

“Hermione I’m not going to tell you who you can and cannot be friends with.  I doubt you would even let me if I tried.”  The tension between us fractured then, as Hermione let out a bubbling giggle; charged with nervousness and relief, I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it softly.

“Harry and I were going to take him to Hogsmeade, but his punishment doesn’t allow for that.  I might be able to ask for him to have a day off of detention, but even that might be pushing it.  He is incredibly lucky to not be in Azkaban, but I still…I hope that maybe one day he won’t be so angry.  The war, it ruined many people and Ron…”  She was lost for words, and I could see her grasping at the straws of her thoughts.  She could no more explain her devotion to Weasel than I could mine to Draco.  They were both fucked up in their own ways and yet we chose to love them,

“Hey if Draco can only be a big prat instead of a massive one, then maybe the Weasel can learn to pass for a decent wizard.”  My words weren’t quite genuine, but it was an attempt, and she seemed to recognize that.  I wasn’t ever going to be a fan of the Weasel, but I couldn’t make her hate him.  She could no more ask me to abandon Draco than I could ask her to abandon Weasley.

“He is more tolerable these days.  Although I suppose that’s thanks to Astoria.  Never thought I’d like a snake so much.”  The irony of her words coated her lips as she smirked at me.  It was smug and reactionary, and I lapped it up.  She was perfect, my little witch.

“I should hope there was a snake you liked even more than our lovely Miss Greengrass the younger.”  I pulled my lips tight into a sad pout, and she rolled those amber eyes at me and I couldn’t hold my poker face.  She was making a lion out of me and I wasn’t sure I minded.

The tension that had been building between us seemed to ease, and we returned to our studying.  N.E.W.T.s were only six weeks away now, and we were both losing our minds just slightly.  Valentine’s Day had been the last time we’d been alone together outside of the brief hour we spent in the library while Xander was in Charms.

Anti-Slytherin sentiment at Hogwarts had slowly begun to dissipate, thanks largely to a certain Head Girl and her Slytherin boyfriend.  Hermione Granger was a war heroine, and no one dared to challenge her authority as head girl.  She was a force to be reckoned with, and once she attached herself to righting a wrong, Merlin himself could not stop her.

Xander of course was a constant shadow for Hermione when she was out and about, engratiating the next generation of Slytherins on the other houses.  McGonagall had required that the Gryffindors who had attacked him publicly apologize before Hermione gave a speech about house unity.  Ever since then, they had actually become friends with the first year Slytherin.  It was strange, and a little disconcerting, to see Xander hang around the boys who had hurt him and me.

Nevertheless, house unity was actually the highest it had ever been at Hogwarts.  Hermione ran a tight ship and had enough blackmail on Blaise to make sure that he did as well.  However, with Crabbe and Goyle gone and Malfoy busy trying to swallow Astoria Greengrass whole, there wasn’t really much needed in terms of getting the snakes in line.  I leant a hand when needed, and the ones stupid enough to still believe in blood purity realized that the tide was changing and all too quick changed their tunes; publicly at least.

My mind had been racing for a while it seemed because when I was stunned back to reality by Hermione’s soft hand on my cheek, I nearly gasped.  “Oh sorry…urm…what were you saying love?”  I knew that there was no point in pretending I had been listening to her, but there was no anger in the annoyed half-glare her honey eyes sent my way.

“Are you alright Theo?  I know that I’m in no place to be making this criticism, but you really should sleep more.”  It wasn’t that she was wrong, she was right as always.  No, it was that I didn’t have the time for a proper sleep schedule anymore.  There was an incredibly competitive internship with the leading barrister for the Wizengamot, and I had recently discovered that I wanted to go into wizard law. 

I needed excellent N.E.W.T.s in all of my subjects as well as at least two glowing letters of recommendation from my professors.  Slughorn had refused at first, still trying to distance himself from the Death Eaters or their children, but Hermione had a talking to with him and walked away with a detailed letter explaining that I was an incredibly capable and organized potioneer.

It had been a trick to even approach a second professor, still carrying around the burden of my father’s crimes and my own cowardice, but once I approached Vector, the grumpy academic agreed.  I could have kissed the woman if I didn’t fear both Vector and Hermione’s retribution.  I’d never dreamed of having a future before and now I was working towards a career in magical law and dating the most wonderful witch in the whole world.

“I know love.  Only six more weeks and then three weeks of testing and then I promise I will do nothing but sleep.”  Hermione laughed lightly at that, her tired giggle not quite full as a yawn slipped out.  I grabbed her hand from my cheek, moving it slowly to my lips.  “I love you.”  The words had become all too familiar to me in the few short weeks that I had started to say them, but I would never get tired of the beautiful way her cheeks flushed whenever I told her that.

“I love you too.  I would love you more though if you helped me with this set of arithmancy problems.  I always get caught when I do the Chaldean method.”  Just like that I was drawn back in to the academics, and more time passed than I liked to admit.  It seemed we were always chasing curfew these days, but luckily I had the Head Girl as the best hall pass there can be.

I insisted on walking her to her dorm, desperate for just a few spare moments with her that were not plagued by revisions.  My hand snaked around her waist as we walked, pulling her petite frame close to me.  Her curly hair invaded my space and I swatted the chestnut strands away from my mouth.  “I love your hair little lion, but it is trying to kill me.”  I joked, batting my handing at one of the curls from her forehead.  She laughed indignantly at me and ruffled her hair to make it even poofier.  She stuck her tongue out at me briefly before smiling.

“You must be a very poor wizard indeed if you are taken down by some curls.”  As much as this little witch was intelligent, she was also too trusting.  Using my hand that was wrapped around her waist, I trapped her between my arms, tickling her midsection.  It had taken some time to determine that Hermione was ticklish, but it was the greatest discovery I’d ever made.  Laughter ripped from her as she wriggled under my touch.  A flush rose to her cheeks as she struggled against me.

“Mercy…mercy!”  She choked out as the laughter became more and more strained.  I relented, but pulled her flush against me so she wouldn’t move.

“My price for freedom is a kiss.”  We were alone now, in a darkened corridor just around the corner from the Head dorms.  The need in her eyes drove me wild as she relented.  Craning my neck down, she rose to her tip toes and connected our lips.  They weren’t as soft as they had been months prior, owing to her penchant for chewing on her lips when she was deep in concentration.

The chill that hung in the air seemed to dissipate as her arms wrapped around me.  We adjusted to draw closer and get into a more comfortable position.  When we finally broke apart, we panted against each other as we tried desperately to fill our lungs.  There was only a few meters between us and her dorm and I found myself disappointed to return her.  I craved these moments of intimacy in between all of her commitments and our revisions and study groups.

Our steps echoed loudly off of the stone walls as we walked towards her dorm.  I held her hand tightly, hoping to never have to let it go.  Her fingers were so much smaller than mine, and yet they felt like they fit with mine like a puzzle piece.

“Here is where we part my love.”  I spoke sadly, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand as we stood in front of the large wooden door.  It was conditioned to only open for the Head Boy and Girl, tied to Hermione and Blaise’s voices.

“You…you don’t have to go.”  Hermione’s cheeks burned as she spoke, and it took me a moment to realize what she was saying.  “Not that you have to stay either and of course we’d just be sleeping but…”  I cut her off with a kiss before she could overthink her decision and take it back.  We’d never really spoken about what our next steps would be as a couple, but I knew one thing for certain which is that I wanted to spend every moment I could with her.

“Just to sleep.”  I teased, as my lips left hers. No matter what rubbish most of my upbringing had been, there was one thing that I had retained and that was how to be a gentleman.  Although sleeping in the same bed as a witch you were courting was already pretty scandalous, one look at her tired brown eyes and I knew I couldn’t resist. 

Her smile nearly split her face as she took my hand.  “Jabberwocky.”  She spoke clearly, smiling at me all the while.  I raised an eyebrow to her at the strange word, but she just shook her head with amusement. “It’s a creature from my favorite Muggle poem.  Its about a brave knight who slays an evil beast terrorizing Wonderland.”  None of that made sense to me, but if she loved it then I made a note to read it.

I had never been in the head dorm, despite my best friend and girlfriend both residing there.  It was homier than I expected, with a comfortable sofa in the little sitting area.  A small oval coffee table sat atop a Persian rug adorned with several large tomes that I had an almost positive suspicion were Hermione’s.  A small kitchenette off to the right housed a cooktop and kettle as well as some mugs, cups, and plates.

“This is nice.”  I remarked, wandering the small greeting area to see it all.  Hermione just followed me with her eyes before pointing to one of the wooden doors to the left of the kitchen.

“That’s Blaise’s room.  Don’t suppose he’ll ever invite anyone inside it who he’s not interested in shagging, but if you ever get the pleasure just don’t sit…anywhere.”  The way her eyes flicked towards the loveseat made me nervous, and I quickly removed my hand from where it had been resting on the suede fabric.

“So this must be your room…”  I purred, taking blatant steps to close the distance between us.  I would be lying if I had said I hadn’t imagined what her room would look like.  The way I imagined it, it would be stacked so high with books that you’d barely be able to walk.  She nodded tightly, and I could see her throat constrict as she swallowed hard.  Before I could stop myself, I leaned into her and placed my lips in the crook of her neck.  Nipping lightly, she moaned quietly, and I smiled as I pulled away from her.

There was a beautiful flush on her face and a tentative hesitance in her movements as she reached out and intertwined her hands with mine.  Pulling me towards the door, it opened for her to reveal exactly the opposite of what I expected.  The room itself was smaller than I thought, fitting a full bed, a chest of drawers, a desk and a boudoir.  The furniture was all made of a cherry wood and fit her Gryffindor spirit.  There was not a book in sight, and I must admit that my mouth gaped at this discovery.

“Undetectable extension charm.”  She commented, as if she could read the question on my face.  I was still confused until she pointed over to where the trunk sat at the foot of her bed.  Opening the trunk, I was amazed to find dozens if not hundreds of books.  “Brilliant.”  I crooned, my eyes glazing a bit as I remarked at just how amazing my witch was.  “You are the most brilliant witch I’ve ever met.”

“You must not have met very many witches.”  She joked, and my hands snaked around her hips.

“I have met more witches than I can count and none of them have ever made me feel even a fraction of the way you do.  I love you Hermione, and if I am lucky, I will spend the rest of my life loving you.”  My words were intense, but so were my feelings.  Slytherins, by nature, were stoic and reserved, but something about this little witch made me feel like a Hufflepuff. 

Her lips were on mine again briefly before she pulled away, grabbing a handful of clothes form one of her drawers and making her way to the loo.  “Be right back.”  She promised, and I felt my breathing hitch as she closed the door.  I hadn’t really thought through the implications of being in her room, and suddenly I was unsure how to proceed.

 _Maybe transfigure your clothes into pyjamas?_ A voice in my head spoke.  Of course.  That was the obvious thing to do.  Fabric transfiguration was quite tricky, but at the end of my wand-waving, I had on a pair of trousers and a thin cotton t-shirt.  Normally I slept in just pants, but this wasn’t an appropriate time for that.

When the door clicked and it opened, I sucked in a breath through my teeth.  Hermione’s hair was pulled into a messy bun piling her curls on top of her head.  She wore an oversized quidditch sweater that looked like she had stolen it from Potter or the Weasel, and a pair of unbelievably small muggle shorts.  Blood purists were fools because muggle clothing was far superior to the stuffy and modest clothing worn by pureblooded girls.  Her legs seemed to go on for days as she walked towards me, and too soon, she was standing next to the bed.

Crawling under the covers with her, my arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to me.  “Is this alright?”  I asked, our noses nearly touching from the closeness.  She smiled brightly at me, and I fell into the depth of her eyes once more.

“Better than alright…perfect.”  We were both so exhausted that we fell asleep within a few minutes from getting under the covers.  It was the best night of sleep I’d had in my entire life.


	11. Tarnished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and Hermione are in love, and there is nothing that can tear them apart...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I have two more chapters planned out, so this story is very close to ending. Thank you for your patience as I get my life together. As always, comments and kudos are super super appreciated!

The period of time that spanned between early March and the beginning of N.E.W.T. testing was so stressful that Hermione and I never really saw each other outside of the library, and even then we were both too focused on our revisions to talk.  We had developed a sign however, and whenever we felt like we were drowning we would tap our quill against the table three times.

The tapping meant _I love you_ , it meant that we were thinking about each other even while the rest of the world seemed to be crashing down around us.  She was brilliant, of course, and could probably take her N.E.W.T.s in her sleep, but the stress of her future seemed to eat away at her.  Missing meals more often than not and barely sleeping, she still looked beautiful (although I was worried about her health).

Our first N.E.W.T.s began the first week of April, right after we returned from our Easter hols. Hermione and I, both being without any family at all, spent much of the break in each other’s company.  She came to Nott Manor after a few days, and I’ve never felt more at home within its walls.  One morning I woke to a delicious smell and found her in the kitchens making eggs and hotcakes in those fantastic muggle shorts.  It was nearly enough to make me propose on the spot, but there were proper ways things were done and proposing to Hermione less than a year into our courtship would not do.  Of course, there was the matter of declaring my intentions.

By this point in our relationship, I was certain that she was the only witch for me and I began plotting my course.  Normally I would have to contact her father or the head of her household to ask for his approval and negotiate a contract for the courtship, but as she was a muggleborn and her father had been obliviated during the war, I was stuck as to what to do.  Tradition and generations of pureblood breeding insisted that we form a contract before we move forward with our relationship, so I did the only thing I could think of.

_Upon arriving back to Hogwarts after the spring hols, we kissed each other goodbye and went to our respective seats at our respective tables with our respective houses.  It always felt cold, leaving her like that, but I dutifully took my place next to Blaise and listened as Xander muttered on about his grandmother’s baking.  It did bring a smile to my face, seeing how much more full of life he was now than he had been that first day of September._

_“Blaisey boy.”  I cooed, watching as his black eyes narrowed on me and he calculated my smile.  He looked almost like a cat in that moment, evaluating whether something was prey or not.  Once he had determined that he was indeed intrigued by my tone, he leant back and crossed his arms.  Raising an eyebrow as if to challenge me, I cleared my throat.  “Might I borrow your owl in the morning?  I find myself in need of sending a letter.”_

* * *

 

To say that I was nervously sweating by the time I had walked to the Great Hall with Xander for breakfast the morning of April 3 would be an accurate assessment.  The layers of my uniform that usually served to warm me were stifling as I attempted to breathe normally.  I was so certain that something would go wrong and everything would be ruined; an attitude that Xander didn’t care for at all.

“Mr. Theo, if you don’t calm down I’m going to tell Mr. Blaise about you sleeping over with Ms. Hermione.”  Color rushed to my cheeks and I cleared my temporary expression of shock and replaced it with the cool sneer that had gotten me through much of my years at Hogwarts.  Draco, who had been too busy falling madly in love with Astoria Greengrass to have time for his friends, finally joined us at the table.  Spreading some jam on toast, his grey eyes met mine and he frowned.

“You’re up to something.”  He accused, pointing at me with his toast in hand.  I laughed quietly at him before fixing myself a cup of tea.  Nice of him to notice.

“Why my dear Drake, me? Up to something?  Now that’s absurd.”  I used the overly formal aristocratic voice that I usually saved for horrible pureblood functions; just the right mix of pretentiousness, indignancy, and condescension.  He just sneered at me and ate the rest of his toast.

“Look ya prick.  I know I haven’t been around much lately…”  I interrupted whatever his speech would be with a chortle.  That was an understatement.  I lived with the bloke and I hadn’t seen him outside meals or class in weeks.  “Alright so I’ve been a wanker and a horrible friend, but you look like you’re going to be sick and I, for one, have never seen you this way before.”  Leaning his elbow on Xander’s head for a rest, Draco looked just as much of a prat as he had ever been and I couldn’t help but smile.  He was finally getting back to being his old self.

Looking around to make sure the other Slytherins weren’t eavesdropping (as was commonplace amongst the snakes), I leaned in towards my old friend.  “I’m sending Potter a very interesting letter this morning.  Might want to keep an eye on the lions.”  With a wink I pulled back, sipping at my still too hot tea and counting my heartbeats in anticipation.  Blaise stumbled in then, clearly having just awoken from either a drunken or some other stupor.

“Bloody birds screech so loud.”  He complained, nodding tightly in my direction to indicate that he had sent my letter.  My breath hitched for a moment and I closed my eyes tightly.  Not even a minute later, owls of all shapes and sizes began to fly in through the open windows at the top of the Great Hall.

A handful of owls dropped things near me: a letter for Malfoy from his mother, chocolates for Blaise from one of his secret admirers, assorted other notes and gifts.  My eyes, however, remained fixed on Hermione’s petite frame buried in our arithmancy book.  I frowned tightly as I watched her chew on her lips.  She was particularly worried about that exam and I hated to see her so stressed.  Potter, chatting animatedly with his ginger girlfriend, looked shocked when a neatly packaged envelope landed next to his plate.  The ivory parchment was bound by a green wax seal and ribbons.

He flipped the letter over twice, seemingly looking for a clue as to who had sent it to him.  My own handwriting glistened on the front:

_Mr. Harry James Potter_

It was my most formal cursive, normally reserved for legal documents and pissing off my governesses when I was growing up.  I watched with delight as he pulled the wax seal off and opened the letter.  As he read it, his eyes grew wider until he somewhat resembled a house elf and his face began to grow red.  I diverted my gaze and began focusing intently on the grain of the table.

Like a shot, he rose from the table and nearly ran over to where I was sitting.  By this point, I was pretending to be bored, biting into an apple from the fruit bowl.  As his heavy footsteps approached me, I turned to face him as if I hadn’t been watching the whole affair.  Blinking innocently at him and donning my best smile, I said hello.  “Oh Potter.  To what do I owe this visit?”  I asked, taking another bite from the fruit in my hand.  Draco, Blaise, Xander and the rest of the Great Hall it seemed had quieted to watch this interaction.

“Don’t you play innocent with me.  What is the meaning of this?”  Potter’s hand grasped the letter tightly and he nearly threw it at me.  I didn’t read it, didn’t need to.  I had written it after all.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am writing in regards to your close friend and confidant Hermione Granger.  As you are the closest man (of age) to her, I thus declare my intentions.  My intentions are to love this witch, to care for her, to provide for her, and to eventually ask for her hand in marriage.  Should you object to these intentions, I invite you to duel me on Saturday at 7 pm under the supervision of a neutral party._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Theodore Frederick Nott_

Draco was the first to bite the bait and grab the letter, his wide eyes turning into a proud sneer as he reached the end.  Blaise, who still seemed to be recovering from whatever incident occurred the night before, clapped me on the shoulder with approval.

“I would think that the meaning would be quite clear.  Is there any vocabulary you need me to clarify?”  That earned a few chuckles of approval from my fellow snakes and I smiled brightly at the disheveled chosen one.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hermione approaching and suddenly my smile was not sarcastic and taunting but genuine.  I imagine that seeing my face change when she approached would earn me teasing from the snakes, but I was so happy I didn’t care.  However, she was not smiling back at me.

“What is going on here?”  She asked, her voice bored and disappointed as she arrived where Potter was standing in front of me.  If every eye in the Great Hall hadn’t been turned before, they were now.

“Here ‘Mione.  You read it.”  Potter smirked, grabbing the parchment out of Draco’s hand and giving it to my witch.  I swallowed the spit in my throat as I surveyed her reaction.  Her face was more stoic than I had ever seen it while she read, and when she was done, she looked at me with such disappointment in her gaze.

I waited, the Great Hall waited, for Hermione to say something…anything.  It was unsettling…the silence that enraptured the room as we all waited on her.  Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a fire charm that she used wandlessly to set my letter alight.  Turning on her heels away from the table, I could feel my face fall as she walked away.  She…she had just publicly burned my declaration of intentions.  Blaise grabbed my shoulder and pulled me to a standing position before leading me away from the Great Hall.

It was like I could feel my body moving but my brain was not comprehending it.  She had rejected my intentions.  Potter’s smug smirk burned itself into my view and it was clearly a very good thing that Blaise had dragged me out of the room before I had come to my senses. 

“She doesn’t know Theo.  She’s muggleborn…she doesn’t know what she’s done.”  Blaise placed her cold, large hands on my chest, pushing against me as I tried to charge back into the grand room.

And just like that I felt my anger start to drain out of me like a leaky faucet.  With each passing breath, my body sagged further and further until I could barely hold myself up.  Stumbling backward until my back made contact with the sharp stone of the wall, I slid down in despair.

“I…I didn’t think.”  I began to stammer, digging my nails into my palms with how tightly I was holding my fists.

“No.  No you didn’t.”  A new voice called.  It was a familiar voice, but I’d never heard it used with such anger.

“Xand…”  Before I could finish even calling his name, he stomped up to where I was sitting and smacked me in the back of my head.  Clutching the point of impact, I looked up at him with wide eyes.  Never, not once, in the entirety of the time I had known him had he ever been truly mad at me.  Blaise nodded tightly to the smaller snake before heading back towards breakfast.

“No Mr. Theo.  You have mucked this up more than I even thought possible.  Please explain to me how you managed to be so smart and yet so unilaterally stupid.  Wait, no.  Don’t.  I cannot even begin to fathom how you thought that publicly declaring your intentions by writing a taunting letter to Ms. Hermione’s best friend would be beneficial to you.  And on top of that you must not know Ms. Hermione at all if you thought that she wouldn’t be furious about it.”  He was so small, but in that moment, with my back against the wall clutching my knees to my chest, it was me who looked like a child.  Xander was right, of course he was right.

I had been so caught up in tradition and sticking it to Potter that I hadn’t considered Hermione’s feelings.  She was never going to be okay with me essentially asking permission to marry her.  She was not some pureblood bint that my father was marrying me off to.  How many hours had she spent lecturing me about the inherent sexism of wizarding traditions?  And I had just asked a man (who is not even related to her) for her.

“Fuck.”  I hissed through my teeth, hanging my head in my hands.  Everytime I have something good going for me I have to just cock it all up.  Xander, who had been standing in front of me looking like a compact ball of barely contained rage seemed to soften a bit.

“Fuck indeed.”  He agreed, turning on his heel to go back to the Great Hall.  It was just me then, alone with my thoughts.  Loneliness and self-loathing surrounded me, and it was like all light in the world dimmed and the air became tight.  I sat like that for several minutes, just waiting for the sweet embrace of death when approaching footsteps broke me out of my trance.

“Go away.”  I instructed at the approaching figure, looking up with the expectation of either Blaise or Draco.  It was neither of them.

“I come in peace.”  Ronald Weasley stood before me, and my jaw nearly locked from how tight I snapped it shut.  He held his hands up in a sign of surrender, and I tried to bite back the boiling rage that filled me.

“Fuck off weasel.  Come to gloat?”  My words were as harsh as I could make them, but they weren’t as hateful as normal.  Sitting there pathetically after having been publicly dumped by your girlfriend has the power to make any man feel small.

“No.  Trust me Nott, no one knows more about fucking up their life than me.”  It was a strange moment of solidarity that passed between the ginger oaf and I as we stared at each other.  Had I had the strength to, I would’ve hexed him.  Yet here he was, seating himself against the wall next to me.  I didn’t even try to stop him.

“I fucking hate you.”  I finally spoke, exasperation, exhaustion and despair in my voice.  Even more than hurting Xander, Weasley represented something I couldn’t hide.  Weasley would never look at me and not see my father; not see everything awful he did.  He was the kind of person that would never see me, who I really was.

“Yeah well I fucking hate me too so get in line.”  That took me by surprise, and my eyes snapped to his.  In all my years at Hogwarts, the Weasel had only ever been full of himself, arrogant and proud with no reason to be so.  Hearing him disparage himself chipped away slightly at my defenses.

“Why are you here?”  My voice cracked as I shifted uncomfortably, my arse starting to get sore from my wallowing position.

“I’ve been on the other side of Hermione’s anger and I know it’s a very lonely place to be.  Its like…”  He gestured in the air with his hands before seeming to find what he wanted to say.  “She has two angers: the kind where she yells and hexes you and it burns like fiendfyre, and the kind that’s cold – which is 1000 times worse.”

I didn’t respond, unsure of what to do.  This conversation was the longest time that we had ever spent with each other outside of class, and I was growing more and more uncomfortable.

“When she’s the cold kind of mad, you’ll just wish that she would yell at you or put you on the other end of her wand, but she won’t.  She’ll let you tear yourself apart from the inside out while looking at you with those sad, disappointed eyes.”  He wasn’t wrong, and I took to playing with a loose piece of stone to distract myself from this sad conversation I was having with a man I loathed.

“How would you know?”  It was a stupid question.  Of course he would know how Hermione expressed her displeasure.  I’d seen it myself over the years.  Sixth year she had even sent a flock of birds to attack the weasel.

“During the war, I left them.”  My eyes widened as I stared at him in disbelief.  He…left them?  “We’d all been taking turns holding this piece of You-Know-Who’s soul and it fucked with my head.  We were starving and on the run and I just got so, so angry.  Me and Harry got into this big fight and I marched out.  It was the biggest regret of my life, and I eventually found my way back to them, but Hermione…”  He paused and cleared his throat, as if the weight of his story was catching.  I would’ve almost felt sorry for him, if I could forget for even a moment that he had tried to murder me and almost murdered Xander.  Returning my scowl, I threw the rock I’d been carving into the floor with as hard as I could down the expansive hallway.

“Hermione didn’t forgive me for a long time…fuck she still might not have forgiven me.  I keep thinking that if I make enough excuses then I can ignore all the fucking awful things I did.  Dating Lav just to piss off Hermione, leaving them during the war, almost killing that first-year…I could convince myself that they weren’t that bad.  I mean I could’ve been worse, I could’ve been a death eater.”  The casual way he spit out that phrase grated against my bones and a chill ran down my spine.  Pictures of my father returning home late at night with blood on his shoes and robes flickered in my mind.  Yes.  There were worse things.

“So you’re not a great person.  I knew that.”  I was baiting him, but for once, he didn’t rise to it.  His blue eyes looked at me with pity, and I hated it.  I hated him for it.

“I’m not.  It took me nearly killing Rowle to realize that.  I was so mad that Hermione loved you and not me.  You were supposed to be everything I was raised to believe was evil.  I was convinced ‘Mione and I were meant to be, then you came along.  A Slytherin son of a death eater who is best friends with a death eater.  Do you know what I learned though?”  I chewed my lip lightly and debated whether to indulge him or not.  Finally giving in, I shook my head limply.

“I learned that we’re all fucked up from this war.  I…fuck I’m so sorry Nott.  Believe me or don’t but I needed you to know that.  I’m so fucking sorry.”  Tears brimmed the large boy’s eyes and I cast my glance away.  I hadn’t expected that.

“Okay.”  I said out of uncertainty.  He seemed so genuine, but I couldn’t forgive him.  Not so suddenly, not yet.

“You don’t have to forgive me.  Merlin knows I wouldn’t forgive me in your place.”  We commiserated for a second, and I found myself considering what he had said.  “Anyway, that wasn’t even what I meant to say.  I just…talk to her.  You…”  He paused for a moment, closing his eyes tightly before taking a deep breath.  “You’re good for her.  She smiles more.  Don’t let her let you go.  Fight for her.”

I was about seven seconds away from pinching myself to see if this was some weird fever dream when he rose suddenly and smoothed his robes.  “I’m off to detention.  Filch has me cleaning flobberworm slime from the greenhouses.”

He was gone before I could blink and I was left staring after the space he had been.  “What the fuck just happened?”


	12. Thorough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After once again having said exactly the wrong thing, Theo desperately tries to prove to Hermione that he loves her and he'll do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. There will be one final chapter to this story, and I can't thank you all enough for your generosity when it comes to this story. If you have any interest in my writing, I have a new story that's a Sirius and Hermione that I'm very proud of that you should check out.

It took a significant amount of groveling and a swift hex to my nether-bits for Hermione to finally stand still long enough for me to apologize to her.  She was so beautiful, even with the sad disappointment staring back at me.

She avoided me for days, and I would only catch fleeting glimpses of her in classes or at meals.  Her duties as Head Girl did not go neglected though, and she showed up on schedule for every tutoring session; although she seemed to find whichever desk was furthest away from me and plant herself there.  Xander had also been avoiding me, murmuring something about cleaning up my mess once before.

The Weasel had been right – which I quickly realized was the first time that thought had ever passed through my mind.  Hermione’s anger when she was cold was so much worse.  I’d been on the wrong side of her temper many times for seemingly stupid reasons, but this was not the first time I’d earned it.  I’d gone to some increasingly desperate lengths to get her to talk to me though.

_“Weasley.”  I greeted as politely as I could manage.  She was standing outside the Quidditch practice rooms, looking very sweaty after a particularly heated practice match.  Potter, who eyed me with a sort of mixture between smug self-satisfaction and pity left us when the redheaded witch nodded that it was alright._

_“What do you want Nott?  I have half a mind to hex your bollocks off.  Hermione has been a mess, not that she’ll admit it.”  I’d never had anything against the youngest Weasel, other than the Gryffindor sensibilities and the horrible taste in boyfriends.  The only reason she hadn’t hexed me yet was likely the tentative friendship we’d developed throughout my and Hermione’s courtship._

_“Help me.  I love her and it was just a stupid mistake.  I never thought it would upset her so much.  I only did it to piss off Potter and Wease…your brother.”  I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.  I knew from Blaise and Draco’s constant updates that I…oh how did Blaise so eloquently phrase it?  Looked like absolute hippogriff shite.  Dark bags had formed under my eyes from the lack of sleep.  It wasn’t that I was intentionally not sleeping, it was just harder to do while imagining her warm body wrapped in my arms.  Fear and anxiety filled me as I worried that I may never hold her in my arms again.  If I managed to cock this up, I would be the dumbest man who has ever lived._

_“Yeah well it fucking pissed off Hermione more than anyone.  How could you not know that she would misread that?  How the fuck did you not think she’d see it as you claiming her in some sexism filled tradition?  You’ll provide for her?  Merlin that was fucking stupid.”  It wasn’t new information, or something I hadn’t been telling myself, but it was still hard to accept.  In hindsight, I absolutely should have known._

_“Listen I’m a cock up.  I get it.  I do.  I made the stupidest decision that any man has ever made and I may have ruined my chance with the most spectacular woman in the entire world.  I bloody get it.  But help me explain…help me get her back.  I love her.  I love her so much…please.”  I could hear my father’s croaking old voice in my ear then ‘_ Notts don’t say please…Notts don’t beg.’ _She seemed startled to see the desperation on my face…to hear it in my voice.  Then I did the only thing I could think of that would get her attention._

_Dropping to my knees, I looked her in the eyes.  Her brown eyes were a softer color then Hermione’s more golden in hue than chocolate.  Closing my eyes, I held out my wand in both hands towards her.  It was the most humiliating form of begging that wizards had, but I was so tired…so hungry for Hermione’s touch, her eyes, her hair…her everything._

_“Please.  Please help me.”  Shock was the only expression she showed on her face for a long moment as she processed the fact that I was begging her.  It was not a position that many would use in a lifetime, and had normally been used in history when pleading for your life.  My case was not far off, as I could no longer imagine a fruitful life without Hermione Granger in it._

_“I can…oh Merlin get up.”  The Weaselette insisted, her cheeks burning with secondhand embarrassment from my dramatic display.  “I’ll arrange a meeting, but its up to her if she wants to forgive you or not.  She’s had just about enough of the wizarding world and their customs.  She’s not a pureblood.  She’s never going to be Pansy Parkinson or whoever the fuck the ferret is dating.  She is Hermione Granger, and if you are not ready to commit to who she is 100% then whether or not she forgives you will be your last worry.”  There was something incredibly threatening about the air surrounding the youngest Weasley, and for once I understood why she had been one of the leaders of the resistance last year._

_Nodding my head tightly, I scrambled to my feet.  It was a start at least, Weasley promising to put us in the same place._

_“She has been taking a new route to the library to avoid you.  If you wait by the statue of Gronig the Grumpy, she’ll pass by on her way.”  I closed my eyes and committed that to memory.  It was on the way to the library from the Head dorms, but it was quite out of the way.  My stomach clenched as I realized how inconvenient I must have been making her life._

_“Oh and one more thing Nott?”  I turned back to face the redheaded witch, who had pulled her wand from a hidden pocket in her Quidditch robes.  “Never hurt my best friend again.”  She was swift, and her spellcasting efficient as she sent a painful stinging hex right to my crotch.  I collapsed on the dirt ground, rolling slightly as I cupped my balls.  Merlin did that witch know how to cast a hex._

_“Understood.”  I choked out, pulling in air in gasps as I attempted to focus on anything but the pain._

Ginny’s advice had turned out to work, as ten minutes before our tutoring session was due to begin, Hermione’s quick paced steps echoed through the halls.

“Fancy meeting you here.”  I tried to joke as I stepped out of where I’d been hiding and directly into her path.  She must’ve been focused on something intently because she walked right into my chest, ricocheting off slightly as she did so.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t see you the…oh.”  The way her eyes looked at me nearly tore me apart right then.  They were the same big beautiful chocolate brown eyes that I had spent so much time gazing at lovingly, and yet they were cast into a different light by the sadness that now lived in them.

“Please…just give me a chance to explain.”  My voice was pleading as she turned on her heal and began to walk away.  She seemed to be ignoring me however.

“I love you!  Please Hermione.  I didn’t mean to…”  That got her attention, and I was startled when she about faced and glared at me.

“You never mean to Theodore.”  My full name sounded like acid on her tongue, and it stabbed through me.  I’d always hated that name, reminding me every day of the man who had ruined my life.  She had never once called me Theodore out of anger, and it shattered my heart into little pieces.  “You never mean to make me cry or to embarrass me, and yet here we are.  You…you asked for Harry – Harry!!!’s permission to what?  To court me?  I am not some pureblooded girl you can bring home.  I hate all this tradition and the you know that!”

It was a strange feeling, being yelled at by her in that moment.  On one hand, it was the most I’d heard her voice since our fight, but on the other, she was right.  It had been thoughtless and upsetting for me to impose pureblooded tradition on her.  She’d told me time and time again how backwards and barbaric our customs were.  I don’t even believe in them myself, so I couldn’t figure out why I was so determined to send that letter of intention.

“And do you know what the worst part is?”  The way she looked at me now was so different than it had ever been before.  She seemed so small, so fragile, like she might shatter if I touched her.

“I didn’t mean it.”  I choked out a whisper, feeling the words stick in my throat.

“The worst part is that in the muggle world, a boy is supposed to ask a girl’s father.  Well I don’t have my dad.  I don’t have my mum.  And you made some sort of joke out of it!”  Her voice wasn’t angry when she yelled at me, and I could sense the tremble in her tone.  Quickly closing the space between us, I wrapped her tightly in my arms.

She never cried really.  Not anymore, but she sobbed like every emotion she’d pushed away about her parents came back to her.  I’d never thought about how she missed her parents.  It hadn’t even occurred to me when I was calculating what male would be closest to her.  I felt worse in that moment than I ever had.

Even when I had called her that foul word, that had been a mistake.  This…I had brought up the thing she was most sensitive about in the world and treated it as a joke.

“I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry.”  I cooed into her ear, stroking her hair lightly as she cried.  She wretched as she continued, and I stood and let her cry.  She was so strong, probably the strongest person I’d ever known, but even those with the strongest shoulders can sometimes falter under the weight of the world.  Hermione was about to graduate from school and go out into a world that some still believed she had no right to live in.

After a few minutes, her sobs began to stall.  I unwrapped her as tightly from my arms and pulled her away enough so that I could look at her.  Using my hand to brush some of her errant curls out of her face, I stroked her cheek lightly.

“I have been awful, and thoughtless, and a terrible boyfriend.  I know how upsetting it is to not have your parents and I should never have played such an awful joke.  Please understand though that I love you more than anything in the world and I will do my best to never upset you again.”  To my immense surprise, she laughed at me in that moment, the sound catching in her nose as she conjured a handkerchief to blow it into.  Even covered in snot and with her face red and puffy, she was the most lovely creature in creation.

“I’m sorry its just…we’re going to fight Theo, and you’re going to upset me on occasion.”  Her voice was still raw from the crying, but it was so good to see even the ghost of a smile.

“I shall endeavor not to.  I don’t think I could survive this cold shoulder business again.  Not to be dramatic…ah who am I kidding, I love being dramatic, but I would rather do nothing with you than anything without you.”  I swiped my thumb across her cheek once more, before bringing her petite face up to meet mine.  Her lips were scratchy and raw from where she’d been clearly biting them.  Smiling with my lips still pressed against hers, I lifted her up and swung her around.  She screeched loudly in my ear, but I would never let her go…not again.

“Put me down!”  Hermione insisted, although the giggling in her voice was being barely contained.  Her laughter sounded sweeter to me than the most beautiful symphonies after weeks of not hearing it.  N.E.W.T.s had finished already, as the last exams were finishing up tomorrow.  Only Care of Magical Creatures and Divination N.E.W.T.s were left, and neither Hermione nor I had taken either of them.

“As the lady wishes.”  I accommodated her, lowering her slowly.  She was so small, compared to me, and I had forgotten in the time we’d been apart.

“We should get to the library.  There are still students taking exams and what kind of head girl would I be if I allowed them to fail?”  She paused next to me for only a moment before waving her wand to clear her skin.  Puffy redness disappeared, and all evidence that she had been sobbing just minutes before with it.  Replacing her wand in the sleeve of her robe, she grabbed my hand and lead me towards the library.

Needless to say, there was more than a little whispering when we arrived at the library with our hands interlocked, and Blaise raised a cautious eyebrow that to anyone else would read as a bored accusation, but to me, I knew he was more than a little curious about this turn of events.  Xander, who had been waiting patiently for his favorite Gryffindor to show up, beamed up at us as we entered.  He watched us carefully as we sat ourselves down at a table in the media, clearly expressing that we were back to normal.

The last tutoring session of the term seemed to pass rather quickly, with several Hufflepuffs in third year charms finally understanding the difference between the wand-lighting charms.  Although one of them did briefly blind myself and everyone around me when they practiced lumos maxima without informing us, it was an incredibly successful lesson.  The students began to drift off until only Blaise, Hermione and I remained.

“Am I free of this burden now slave master?”  Blaise asked pointedly at Hermione.  She really could have reported his…illicit visitors in the Head dorms at any time to McGonagall, so I knew that he wasn’t all that inconvenienced by the arrangement, but he still had to keep up appearances.

“Well I suppose that depends.”  Hermione teased, smiling brightly at him in a wicked way.  It was almost Slytherin of her, and I could see a slight shift in Blaise’s posture as he regarded her in a new way.

“Depends on what?”  He mused, leaning towards her as if she was about to share some great secret.

“On whether you are going to admit you’re dating Luna Lovegood or not.”  For a brief moment, I thought that Blaise’s heart may have stopped.  My heart as well was pounding as my eyes nearly flew out of my head.

“WHAT?!!”  I screeched, earning a glare from the particularly vulture-ly looking Madam Pince.  “Sorry.”  I threw over my shoulder, seeing nothing but hatred reflect back at me.  Hermione hadn’t even moved, crossing her arms and looking imposingly at my best friend, who was absolutely gobsmacked.

“I…what an absurd…You…That is patently untrue.”  I’d never seen Blaise so flustered and had I not myself been having a hard time processing the information, I would have reveled in his dishevelment.

“Looney Lovegood!!!”  I saw Hermione’s brown eyes narrow at me into a glare, and I held up my hands.  “I mean Luna but well…fuck Blaise.  What could she possibly see in you?”

Hermione now smacked my arm and glared at me even more and I made the very educated decision to stop talking.  Blaise, who was now glaring at both me and Hermione at equal intervals, slouched.

“Listen you twat…”  Blaise began looking directly at me.  “She’s…I don’t even fucking know.  Magical seems like the wrong thing to say, but that’s what she is.”  It was strange and surreal.  To see Blaise talking about anyone like that much less Luna.  We were absolutely vile to each other and we are best friends.  There was a softness in his eyes and I wiped the smirk from my face and replaced it with a genuine smile.

“I’m happy for you Blaise, but why hide it?  You’ve never been shy about your girls before.”  Hermione agreed, nodding briefly before turning to face Blaise.  I needed to ask her later how she’d even discovered this secret.

“This is…she’s different.  All those other girls were just pastimes…a bit of fun.  She’s…fuck this is so cheesy.  I haven’t even asked her to be my girlfriend properly.  There’s so many fucking rules about how to romance is supposed to go, so I never dallied in romance.  Then of course there was your fucking disaster in the Great Hall last week.”  Blaise hung his head in his hands and groaned loudly.  “Merlin I sound like you.  All dramatic and weepy over some witch.”

“Hey!”  I teased back, smacking his arm again.  “Its not dramatic or weepy when they’re the one for you.  When you find your one, then nothing ever feels the same again.”  Hermione let out a pleased awwww and kissed my cheek, which earned a faux gag from Blaise.

“He’s right you know.  Luna is just as mad for you as you are her.  I am hardly the type of person who has any room to say that you are mismatched.  After all, I’ve foolishly fallen in love with seemingly the wholly wrong person.”  Her lips turned up into a bright smile as she leaned into my shoulder, and I kissed the top of her head.

“Come on Blaisey, you know I support you no matter what.  Even when you are absolutely horrid to me.”  I stuck out my lip and pouted at him, earning a deep laughter.  Everything made sense all of a sudden; how distant he’d been recently when talking about his conquests, how he suddenly had no free time, all the time he spent in his dorm rather than mine.  Luna Lovegood was an exceptional witch, and I would be lying if I said that she didn’t see the best in people.  Blaise was very rough around the edges, but he was devotedly loyal when you earned his trust.  The more I considered it, the more it made sense that my curmudgeonly best friend and the flighty witch were together.

“Just don’t…spread that information.  She’s…she’s good and there are a lot of people who wouldn’t agree with our relationship.  Hermione was already held in high esteem before she had pity on you.  Luna – some people already give her a hard time, and dating me would just make it worse.  Please just…don’t tell anyone.  Especially Draco.”  It was the first time I’d ever heard Blaise say please, and all humor drained from my face.  This was clearly important to him.

“We promise.  Now lets get off to bed.  Only four days left to graduation after all, we must ensure that our Heads are well rested.”


End file.
